A Ghostly Affair
by corvusdraconis
Summary: [HG/SS] Something haunts the Shrieking Shack, and it isn't Remus Lupin. Gaping holes in Hermione's memories signal a hunt for the ultimate reason of why she can't remember such a big chunk of her past. [AU] Rated M for delicate sensibilities.
1. Riddle of the Sphinx

**Beta Love:** Checkers of my brain, The Dragon and the Rose; Dutchgirl01 and Flyby Commander Shepard (poor guy had the flu, send him light soups and game controllers!)

 **[Summary]:** [HG/SS] Something haunts the Shrieking Shack, and it isn't Remus Lupin. Gaping holes in Hermione's memories signal a hunt for the ultimate reason of why she can't remember such a big chunk of her past. [AU]

 **Rating:** M (Citrus warning)

 **A/N:** My brain is currently on holiday. Sorry. I've been getting odd reviews stating that I change things without it being AU. Um, all of my stories are AU because Snape lives. That being said, I like to bring in canon things to bring a little what-if into my stories, but that doesn't mean I stay with it. If everything was canon, I wouldn't have to write at all. We'd all be happy reading JKR's stuff (not that we aren't, but we still write fanfiction.)

 **Warnings:** Manipulative!Dumbledore, Intelligent/Friend!Draco, Alive!Snape, Git/Manipulated!Ron, you get the idea

 **A/N:** Back to school in a week. Once I'm back in clinical, I won't be updating much or able to work on stories. Very sorry. Real life and all that. *whimper*

 **A Ghostly Affair**

 **Chapter 1 : Riddle of the Sphinx**

 _True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen. Francois de La Rochefoucauld_

"What are you doing, Granger? Sitting there by the window as though the past will change when you know it will not?"

"Professor?" Hermione jolted awake, her head falling out from her cupped hands.

Hermione winced.

It had been almost two years since the end of the Second Wizarding War—two years of countless suitors who all wanted to claim the ultimate trophy wife, the 'Brightest Witch of Her Age' for one reason or another. The thing was, she wasn't bloody _looking_ , thank you very much.

The only one she tolerated visiting her, here at the Granger holiday cottage in Cornwall, was Viktor Krum. While they were very close, Viktor being a far better friend than she had ever known growing up, they both knew that Viktor was still seeking "the one." It hadn't stopped them from spending time together, sharing both thoughts and intimacy, but it was a safe, comfortable sort of relationship. The love they had was special, but not one that could last for a lifetime and they both knew it.

Viktor was still looking for that special witch who could make everything else fade away into nothing. Hermione was still grieving for the one man she'd lost before it had ever even begun: Severus Snape. Only Viktor understood truly understood how she had felt about the late potions master. Harry, despite doing all that he could to clear Snape's name and reputation with the wizarding public, couldn't fathom the notion of his best female friend with— _him_.

Severus Snape was dead, but Harry and Ron still regarded him with the same instinctive, knee-jerk reaction of disgust and loathing that they had had to him ever since they had been his students. It was one thing to be aware that the man had done some amazingly brave things in the face of constant danger, but it was another thing entirely to imagine _their_ Hermione having a soft spot for the intimidating dark wizard. Hermione, however, had always sensed that there was far more to Professor Snape than had met the eye. She had suspected that he wasn't what he seemed to be ever since she had discovered the Potions master had been actually fighting to counter the curse that Quirrellmort had placed on Harry's broom.

She had tried so hard to decipher the man, but he had always proven so very enigmatic and elusive, at least until—

 _"_ _If you value your lives, you will take this Miss Granger. You will memorise it thoroughly, just like you memorise everything else. Then, you will destroy it."_

 _"_ _P—professor?" She held the small, leather-bound journal._

 _"_ _Memorise and destroy it, Miss Granger," he said, his dark eyes stern and fathomless. "There will not be a second time."_

 _She tucked it into her pocket, nodding silently. "Yes, sir. I will, sir."_

 _Snape's lip curled. "See that you do, Miss Granger."_

 _He pulled out his wand and touched it to his temple. "Obliviate."_

 _His eyes glazed over and he shook his head. Suddenly, anger filled his eyes as he glowered down at her. "What are you staring at, Miss Granger?"_

 _"_ _I—I'm sorry, sir!" she stammered, excusing herself, hurrying to make it back to Gryffindor tower before curfew._

The small journal had long since been destroyed, but Hermione knew every single page by heart. She knew every slash of his handwriting, every ink splotch, and every single spell. Disillusionment, wards, wards on top of wards, shielding the mind during torture—she had memorised it all, and oddly, it came to her easily as though she had been doing it all her life. The information in that journal had saved their lives on more occasions than she could count.

 _This spell will shield your personal living space from all who are not attuned to it. None will know it is there, neither magical nor Muggle. Be sure to attune it to yourself, or you will lose your way home._

She had used it, and it had kept them safe, at least until they happened to step outside the boundaries. Then, Harry had impulsively used Voldemort's tabooed name—and no amount of spells could have warded against _that_. She had used spells to dull the pain of Bellatrix' torture. She had used others to harden her resolve when her emotions were getting the better of her. And, most of all, she had used her newfound knowledge to cloak the help that Professor Snape had given her, blanking the information out of her mind and replacing his face with Headmaster Dumbledore's—but _she_ knew the truth of it.

It was a truth that no one else knew, and after Professor Snape had died, all hope of her one day knowing _why_ he had helped them had died along with him. She could only presume that somehow Professor Snape had decided that the best way to help Harry Potter was to educate his rather more diligent friend. And his perspicacious gamble had worked, after all.

What neither of them had counted on was that Hermione would've become so drawn to him while doing such an intimate study of his magic and his notes. She knew his handwriting very well—every curve and every jagged, spidery edge. She knew his moods from the style of his writing, and she knew— _felt—_ his hidden wells of pain.

The journal had been a doorway, his writings the key, and she his precise instrument of vengeance. Of that, she had little doubt. Perhaps, he had never expected to survive, and she had been his only hope of accomplishing something he could not: keeping Harry Potter alive until he could fulfil his destiny.

Now that the war was over, at least on paper, Hermione had settled into her family's summer cottage in Cornwall—the sole remainder she had of her dead parents. No amount of Obliviating and memory charms could have saved them. Someone had evidently seen something and tipped the Death Eaters off. All of the passengers inside the plane to Australia, including her parents, had been killed in a fiery crash only minutes from the runway.

Muggle investigators had eventually deemed the plane crash to be just another tragic accident. Hermione, however, knew better.

 _You have a rat in your midst, Miss Granger. Trust no one in this war. No one but yourself. Even your professed allies have loose lips._

She should have believed, but in her paranoia to make sure everything was pre-approved and that she would be able to come back and reverse the memory charm one day, she had done exactly what Professor Snape had warned her _not_ to do: she had trusted someone other than herself. She had paid very dearly for her naive trust. It had been the flames of her rebirth from Hermione-the-Naive-Schoolgirl to Hermione-the-Warrior.

It had been Hermione-the-Warrior who had kept Harry and Ron alive, despite the two boys' best efforts to get them all killed. It had been _she_ who had Obliviated Dolohov and countless other Death Eaters. She'd also buried the bodies of all those who got too close to them—that was something neither Harry nor Ronald had ever suspected. Had they have even guessed, perhaps Ron wouldn't have run off his spiteful mouth and left them alone in the woods. Perhaps, instead, he would have grabbed Harry and made a run for it.

Why? Oh, no _particular_ reason…

Hermione hopped down off the chair and walked out the front door of her cottage. She immediately fell onto all fours, setting free the magic that Professor McGonagall had carefully drilled into her, day in and day out, until it was every bit as natural as breathing for her.

She yawned toothily, her profusion of bushy hair seeming even more like a lion's mane than usual. Golden claws stretched out from tawny paws. Black padded feet thumped onto the ground, and a long, leonine tail swished proudly back and forth. Her pointed, tufted ears angled up out of her curly mane, and her human face had a few rather—predatory changes. A mouth full of wickedly sharp, feline teeth and a raspy sandpaper tongue, for example, were among the more obvious physical changes. But Hermione's face, mostly, was just the same as the one she'd known all her life. She was a sphinx.

She had stopped wondering why the great sphinx of Egypt was so huge. She _was_ huge. She was quite a gargantuan specimen of sphinx-hood, and she hungered for knowledge even more as this rather rare example of magical predator. She found the uneducated and willfully ignorant to be violently distasteful to her.

Quite often, fatally so.

She had torn perhaps twenty or so Snatchers to bloody screaming shreds with nothing other the tools of a master predator. They could not hope to answer her riddles. They paid for their ignorance with their pitiful lives.

Minerva had said the majority of Animagi became some normal, mundane species of animal—those few that weren't were quickly whisked away into service by the Unspeakables for various jobs that required a very special touch. They were kept off the formal registry in exchange for an agreement to perform whatever specialised job they were to be assigned.

Hermione's job?

She guarded the very deepest vaults in the Department of Mysteries—ensuring that the tragedies such as the incident when Harry had broken in to "save" his godfather, Sirius Black, only to see him tumble through the Veil of Death, no thanks to the late, unlamented Bellatrix Lestrange. She wasn't the only one, thankfully, but her fellow rare Animagi took the job in shifts. She was paid very, very well: half in ancient tomes that she gleefully hoarded and half in an exceptionally generous amount of galleons that kept her human life most comfortable, indeed. She split her time evenly between guard duties and her work as the Ministry's top warding specialist. No one seemed to realise just how she had become so versed in creating high-level security wards as such a young witch. Whenever she was guarding in the vaults, she worked with her friend and partner, one Augustine Flamescale, who was a rather impressive Hungarian Horntail, if she didn't say so herself.

What was even more "out there" was her slow incorporation of various Muggle forms of protection, seamlessly blended with magic to prevent easy work-arounds. That was her specialty: techno-magery. At least that is what Kingsley had dubbed it.

She had just enough knowledge of the Muggle and the magical to make it her very own type of magic. It was the sort of thing that the most hard-core of traditionalists had no idea whatsoever how to counter. It was also the kind of thing sphinxes really couldn't get enough of.

Sphinxes _loved_ traps—be they mental or physical. Traps were just another type of riddle, as far as a sphinx was concerned. And Hermione was no exception to the species. Animagus she may be, but the form was, as Minerva had explained, her _true_ shape: the ultimate physical manifestation of her innermost self.

The greatest mystery of all, however, remained just _why_ Professor Snape had deigned to help her. Hermione always had been a sucker for mysteries.

Professor Snape was one big enigma wrapped up in heavy ebony wrapping paper with elegant silver ribbons and a velvety green bow perched on top. He was the most appealing mystery that she had ever encountered—both then and now. His death had only heightened that craving, the desperate need to _know_. It was a craving that seemed to be rapidly taking over her life.

Hermione set forth digging herself a brand-new lagoon—quite literally with her own paws and claws. Huge piles of earth were flying in all directions, even displacing a rather teed-off ground squirrel.

 _Oops, sorry little friend._

Magic would take care of the rest, but she really needed to **_DO_** something physical to get her mind off things. Being a sphinx made her a little mentally OCD. She tended to get… fixated. Thankfully, there were no neighbours to call in the local special forces unit, the police, Scotland Yard, a military air strike, or Merlin-only-knew what else. That was the really nice thing about living where she was. The powerful wards she had constructed did all the rest. Cornwall was _not_ a Wizarding-only community, so she did her best to keep up appearances, paying the electric bill, taxes, shopping at the local grocery, and whatever. For the most part, though, they left her in peace—which was just the way she liked it.

She had constructed a solar panel array the envy of green-living enthusiasts everywhere, and had surreptitiously joined it with her magical warding net, and had even enticed a rather lovely ley line to come plunk itself down smack in the middle of her acreage. It wasn't even really that hard. As it happened, ley lines spoke fluent sphinx. Who knew?

Her house had started to become almost… sentient, much like Hogwarts herself, and there was something pleasingly familiar and reassuring about that. Chairs would appear precisely where she needed them, rugs would straighten themselves out, and doors would obligingly open for her whenever her arms were loaded down with groceries. Really, did she even need anything more than that?

Well, that and the fully-stocked library of her dreams. And she was really working hard on building exactly that.

After a few hours of digging, she noticed that river stones and sand were already rolling in to create a lining for her lagoon, without her even having to ask, and she silently thanked the ley line for always looking out for her. A rather dashing pair of male and female date palm trees popped out of nothingness, casting the perfect amount of shade in all the right places.

Well, now. Didn't _she_ seem quite the proper sphinx? She even had dates to snack on. Excellent.

She rolled over onto her back, her hind leg scratching at an itch and her tail lazily swishing back and forth in the sand. It was definitely starting to feel like home.

"Whooooooo."

Her ear twitched in annoyance.

There was a rather plump-looking barred owl perched on one of her new date palms, watching her.

Hermione sighed, the sound coming out distinctly more like a leonine growl. Owls were never, well, _rarely_ ever good signs. Owls brought—mail. She didn't bother suppressing a shudder of distaste at the thought of still more unwanted mail.

"Whoooo."

Unfortunately, eating postal owls was generally frowned upon. Bother.

She stretched out her wings and rolled onto her back, shimmying back and forth to scratch herself in the warm sand. Ahh, _much_ better.

Minerva had helped her enchant a set of wraps to follow her when she shifted into her Animagus form—seeing as sphinxes still looked very much like a woman in certain ways. It saved her from having to show up to work half-starkers and making all of her co-workers drop what they were holding and start doing the slow zombie walk towards her exposed mammaries. Merlin… was having large breasts _that_ big of a deal?

Nah, don't even bother noticing the mouth full of sharp teeth, the claws, and the wing spurs, no. Just stand there gawking at my breasts. Really?

Then again, it had stunned plenty enough Death Eaters to make them ridiculously easy kills. At least the ones who appreciated the sight of a nice pair of breasts. She was convinced that more than a few of them were poofters and would have much preferred to ogle certain _other_ types of equipment.

Another of her big secrets? Sphinxes had this unnerving desire to devour those who didn't, or couldn't, answer their riddles. You could only keep so many friends revealing that sort of thing. Needless to say, she had never told Harry, much less Ronald.

Kingsley had given her official permission to eat any interlopers who tried to break into the vaults. That must have been an very... interesting Wizengamot meeting. At least she wasn't like Augustine, who preferred to char roast and let his victims hang for a few days to " tenderise and properly season like a pheasant."

Her rear leg scratched the itch under her rather stylish and official Unspeakables collar. To prevent any awkward questions, she was registered as Kingsley's "familiar." Nobody had any desire to get near enough to question her about it. And she preferred it that way. She could come and go without ever being stopped at security. She could walk right in and flop down in the middle of Kingsley's office and stare at his guests without even a word of reprimand, much less being stopped.

Kingsley, she was pretty sure, was enjoying that immensely.

Kingsley would often pass her various odd tomes and other rare books as treats, and she snuggled up with them like a cat would with her most treasured plush toys.

After having taken out one of his door frames with her sheer bulk, his offices mysteriously replaced all his doors with wider and larger double doors. Not a word was said about it, almost as if they were afraid she might _THINK_ they were trying to say she was becoming a wee bit "large."

That and there was also the matter of the ley lines.

They really, really liked her. A _lot_.

They would find her like stray cats and rub up against her, sharing their energy with her and following her around. Which is why the main leyline that had been beneath the Atrium when the Ministry building had first been built "had just left" and "showed up in Kingsley's office" one day. That particular incident had remained the main topic of discussion for several weeks afterward. Even more unnerving, energy would arch off of them into various shapes, and sometimes Hermione would be followed everywhere by a small pride of little energy sphinx-lets.

It was really hard to deny any responsibility when evidence shaped very much like yourself was happily playing around your paws.

And so her side-job, whenever she wasn't warding and performing various feats of techomagery, was ley-whispering. Sometimes you really wanted to build something and having a ley line smack in the middle of it making everyone around practically _sing_ with static electricity was a very "bad thing." Nothing like trying to do a simple Lumos spell and getting a sun instead—

On the other hand, some people paid even _MORE_ to have the ley line which sat so tantalizingly close to them come and visit their land. All of it required a veritable ton of paperwork, more so even than trying to take a loan out at Gringott's, thanks to, well, it being a ley line. They usually didn't just up and move—well, unless they happened to be following a sphinx.

Suddenly, the reason why the great pyramids and key places in Egypt always seemed to have leylines in major places became perfectly clear. They hadn't built the pyramids on top of the leys. The ley lines had come to _them_.

Once the paperwork was filled out, Hermione was dispatched, and she rolled around on the ground and made herself obvious to it. Sure enough, the leyline would creep ever closer and finally snap into place, happily sharing its energy with her and spawning many more sphinx-lets. She'd stay for a day or two to ensure the ley made itself at home in its new location and then shifted back into her human form. Otherwise, the ley would follow the sphinx and the whole process would start over again.

Was it any wonder that the ancient sphinxes a were given grand territories, the very finest in food and drink, access to untold knowledge, and were offered myriad other types of enticement to stay?

"Whooo."

Damn, the owl clearly wasn't inclined to leave anytime soon.

Hermione glared at the offending avian, but alas, it wasn't going anywhere. With a heavy sigh, Hermione rolled over onto her stomach, her tail sweeping in the sand as her feline tongue lolled against her sharp teeth.

"Whoooo." The owl seemed quite unimpressed.

"You might as well come down from there," Hermione said with a yawn. "I can't very well take whatever you're bringing if you don't come down to give it to me."

The owl stared at her, practically radiating suspicion.

"I won't eat you," Hermione said, her lip curling. "You have my solemn word."

That finally seemed to motivate the owl, and it flew down to land nearby. There was a scroll tied to its leg.

Hermione snagged her claw underneath the twine and tugged, releasing the scroll. How was it that a postal owl could find someone, anyone—even if they were a sphinx—anywhere in the world, but when it came to finding three errant children rampaging Hogwarts battling three-headed dogs and other horrors, they seemed utterly befuddled?

Sighing, Hermione tucked the scroll in a scroll case around her waist—one of the first things she and Minerva had enchanted to be remain on her whenever she initiated her transformation. Sphinxes didn't come preinstalled with convenient pockets, after all. This sphinx, however, was well-prepared. Kingsley had added a few things as well, such as the traditional nemes and uraeus of the ancient pharaohs. He'd even added a rather spectacular gemmed Usekh broad collar in the form of Tutankhamun's falcon that doubled as a protective shield for her upper body. There was a part of Hermione that found it utterly ironic that Kingsley had adorned her head with an Egyptian headdress and a serpent. The rest of her was even more amused that Kingsley had dressed her up as a pharaoh sphinx. Oh well—when in Egypt…

She really wanted to visit Egypt someday, but a part of her was worried she'd make some ley line friends that might choose to follow her home. The last thing she wanted was to steal away Egypt's ancient ley lines—that would be so embarrassing. She was pretty sure—well, almost positive—that she would have to be in sphinx form in order for that to happen, but there was also another concern. What if the sphinx loved it there and didn't want to leave? How would she explain her sudden desire to immigrate?

Oh, hello, I uh… feel really drawn to your country. Mind if I stay forever?

Sure, that would go over well.

Then again, if they found out _why_ she wanted to stay, Wizarding Egypt might roll out the red carpet and build her a pyramid of her very own. That would defeat the entire "lying low" thing she currently was attempting to do.

Hermione padded up to her enlarged cottage door. She'd made that particular change first. Her parent's poor cottage was not built to accommodate a few tons of adult sphinx, or at least it hadn't been until she fixed it. Viktor had actually performed the charm on her door that caused it to automatically resize for her as she passed through it. Muggles would assume it was just an unusually large front door, and she didn't have to explain how or why it became even larger.

Truly, Viktor was such a sweetheart, and he was the ultimate friend. There were times when they both had pondered getting married—not because they actually wanted to get married but because it would make life so much easier for them, and eliminate the annoyance of having people constantly trying to marry them or marry them off all the time. Neither of them enjoyed the blatant public pressure to marry that had become the case shortly after the end of second Voldemort war. It had reached even those outside of Britain and came along with an increasingly blatant tendency to reward for those who went along with it. People who married, in order to encourage them to breed, got better perks. No one would actually _admit_ that was the reason why the married wizards and witches were getting more days off along with other considerations, but Hermione wasn't an imbecile and neither was Viktor. It was the main reason Ronald wanted to hurry up, get married, and get busy—the married wizard got considerably more paid time off to spend with his family.

Hermione curled her lips back from her fangs. Ronald had no idea whatsoever just how close he had come to becoming sphinx-food. The last "conversation" she had the displeasure of experiencing with the stubborn redhead had been quite distasteful indeed.

 _"_ _Come on, 'Mione! We'd be great together! Loads of people already think we belong together!"_

 _"_ _I_ _ **don't**_ _belong with you, Ronald," Hermione had hissed. "I do not belong_ _ **to**_ _you, either."_

 _"_ _Think of all the great benefits! A month of paid vacation, personal days for taking care of each other—"_

 _"_ _Ronald, I am_ _ **not**_ _marrying you to be your ticket to better work benefits!"_

 _"'_ _Mione, everyone thinks we're already a done deal—"_

 _"_ _I_ _ **don't**_ _think we are!"_

 _"_ _Mum thinks—"_

 _"_ _Ronald Bilius Weasley!"_ Hermione had blown up all over him at that point, and the conversation had ended with Hermione Disapparating three times in rapid succession in order to avoid being traced.

She'd discovered early on that Ronald had taken advantage of his Auror lessons on how to trace Apparation to raise his game to a whole new level of stalking. Fortunately, she was much better and faster at Apparating than he was at tracing, and after she had led him to a freezing mountain somewhere in Tibet, he'd given up on trying to chase after her, at least for the most part.

It had taken him a few long weeks of therapy at Mungo's to regenerate the skin on his hands, toes, arse, and bits from the ravages of severe frostbite. That had been a few weeks of sweet, blissful silence. Sadly, it had _only_ been a few weeks.

The owl hitched a ride on her leonine back, clinging to her rump as she walked into the cottage. She guided it to the perch and bowl of owl-treats that she had in perpetual stasis for the ever-hungry postal owls. The owl was plainly sticking around, which could only mean one thing: it was waiting for a reply.

Hermione pulled the scroll out and used her teeth and claws to open it, refusing to transform herself just to open a piece of mail she didn't even want in the first place.

* * *

 ** _The Third Annual End of the War Celebratory Ball_**

 _Where_ _ **:**_ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

 _When: July 31st_

 _Come and celebrate with us the end of the of the dark reign of terror that turned Wizarding Britain upside-down._

 _Witness the grand opening of the newly-rebuilt Hogwarts Library and the new memorial greenhouses!_

 _Take a grand tour of the newly-rebuilt Hogwarts. Explore the new, joint common room. See the new dormitories! Meet the new baby hippogriffs! Enjoy a spectacular feast just like those in your student days in the newly-expanded Great Hall. Dance the night away in the new memorial ballroom. Learn about the new arrivals of the rare Sneezing Fanged Geranium! Boggle at the adorable purple boarhound puppies._

 _There will be games out on the greens, a job fair out in the courtyard, and so much more than dancing!_

 _Door prizes include:_

 _A rare tome of ancient charms, donated by the Malfoy family._

 _A rare fire opal focus, donated by the Greengrass family._

 _Packets of various rare garden seeds, guaranteed to grow plants that will actively protect your yard from annoying gnomes._

 _Kneazle-nip, owl-nuts, and more donated by Eeylops Emporium_

 _Gift certificates for Ollivanders, for your budding little wizard or witch_

 _Gift certificates for many of Diagon Alley's finest establishments —far too many to list!_

 _The new Unmess Cauldron by Silver Cauldron Works —guaranteed to keep a lid on your worst potions explosions._

 _The new Nimbus 2003: War and Peace Edition —It hasn't even been released yet, folks!_

 _Signed autographs and Quidditch memorabilia by the Holyhead Harpies, Falmouth Falcons, Kenmare Kestrels, Montrose Magpies, Pride of Portree, Caerphilly Catapults, and the Chudley Cannons._

 _Custom fittings from The Wand and Button so you can step out in style!_

 _Muggle fashion consulting service for when you need to blend in and have no clue on where to start_

* * *

Hermione practically stared a hole through the parchment. A rare tome from the Malfoys… hrm.

She felt her eye twitching. Curiosity ever lured the sphinx.

Draco had been feeding her tidbits from his parent's extensive library in an attempt to forge a lasting peace between them. It had worked, for the most part, but she did wonder if his parents were starting to notice a few telltale gaps in their private library.

Since Harry and Draco had been forced to suck it up and get over their mutual animosity in order to effectively work together at the Aurors' Office, the true Slytherin had tried to smooth over any lingering bad feelings by starting by making amends with Hermione. Truth be told, it wasn't exactly a terrible idea. It _had_ worked. The only thing Draco hadn't counted on was the sheer grudge-holding ability of one Ronald Bilius Weasley. The boy, and Hermione struggled to see him as mature in any way, shape, or form, was never one for letting bygones be bygones. He had raged all over Harry for being a sucker for falling for such blatantly Slytherin tactics, and then had coldly informed Hermione she'd apparently forgotten who had always called her a Mudblood back in the day.

As if she could forget that any more than she could forget the incident when Ron had called her a "traitor" for going to a ball with the "enemy" also-known-as his erstwhile Quidditch hero, Viktor Krum.

The one thing she couldn't remember is why she had ever tolerated it to begin with. _Why_ had she been so inexplicably attracted to Ronald? They were nothing alike and had absolutely nothing in common. She couldn't stand the boy for the bulk of her school career—So how in Merlin's goolies had her profound dislike turned to an obsession?

To be fair, there were a few ways in which he redeemed himself somewhat: trying to inflict the slug vomiting curse on Malfoy after he called her a Mudblood, for example. But such moments were far fewer than the times that all he could do was endlessly bitch about how she was always ruining his and Harry's fun by insisting they study and do their homework. Why then, had she run around wanting nothing more than to snog his face off up until the very day Dumbledore died—

No way. ** _No way!_**

Hermione blew by the owl, practically knocking the startled avian off his perch, summoned her wand to her hand, and ran a scan over herself.

 _"_ _There will always be someone better than you when it comes to certain spells. Even the most gifted witches and wizards know someone who is better at a particular spell than they are. The trick with memory charms is: it's not what you know. It's what you can't remember, though you should. Recognizing such blank spots is the first and most crucial key to knowing when to scan yourself for traces left from memory tampering. Even you, Miss Granger, can be taken for a fool."_

Hermione glowered into the darkening room. Now she had a legitimate reason to go to the celebration. She had a date with a certain Headmaster's portrait to demand some straight answers, starting with why she had been memory charmed and magically fixated on a certain obnoxious toerag by the name of Ronald Bilius Weasley.

* * *

"Hey, Hermione," Harry called from the nearby table. He hooked the back of Hermione's collar with his finger. "You don't want to go that way."

Hermione felt her eyes sliding to the side to peer at Harry. "Do I even want to know?"

"I really don't want to have to arrest my best female friend for cursing my best male friend and coworker into a tapeworm."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Really, Harry? A tapeworm?"

Harry eyed her consideringly. "A _flaming_ tapeworm."

Hermione sighed. "You have have me there."

Harry grinned. "Come on, have a sit with me. Ginny is off being a wildly popular Quidditch star, so I had to come stag tonight."

Hermione groaned, thunking her head against the table. "Harry—"

Harry snickered into his sleeve. "I couldn't resist."

"I swear to Merlin, teaching you how to be an Animagus was the worst thing I ever did," Hermione moaned.

"Worst thing I ever did, Hermione," Harry confessed. "If I'd known it would condemn me into carrying around a bloody huge rack of antlers and getting stuck in every space possible, I'd have thrown in the towel from the start."

"Your father was a stag," Hermione said.

"Does that make me more or less of an imbecile for expecting a different outcome?"

Hermione snorted. "You could have been a puffskein or—an Acromantula. Then Hagrid would want to cuddle you and follow you everywhere."

Harry looked panicked as his eyes went wide and his nostrils flared. "Gods no, please, just... no."

"Hamster?"

"No."

"A chupacabra, maybe?

"No!"

" Buffy-tufted marmoset?"

"Hermione!"

Hermione grinned at him rather evilly.

"Maybe an itty-bitty fruit bat?"

"Well, those are kind of cute—no! Damnit, Hermione!"

Hermione chuckled, passing him a glass of tea. "You could've also become a black ferret and gotten to run around with Draco as a perfectly balanced representation of Yin and Yang."

"Hermione, do you hate me?"

"Why, no, Harry, whyever would you ask such a thing?"

"This is for sending you the invitation for the ball, isn't it?"

Hermione stared narrowly into him, her eyes flashing a vivid amber colour for a second.

"It's totally not fair that you get to see the innermost sanctum of the Department of Mysteries, and all I ever get to see is the Aurory and occasionally Kingsley's office." Harry rubbed his fingers through his already messy black hair. "Ginny doesn't even let me meet her teammates before or after the game."

Hermione frowned darkly. "Harry, are you—" she trailed off, looking around, checking to see if anyone nearby might be listening. "Are you sure you and Ginny are working out okay? Viktor has taken me into the back to celebrate with the team countless times, and we're not even—engaged."

Harry got a rather strange look on his face, caught somewhere between pain and fear.

"You and Daphne always seem to get on pretty well," Hermione remarked casually.

"Hey, Granger," a tenor voice purred, slamming a jar down on the table. "I brought you a gift."

Hermione eyed the jar and smiled. "Malfoy, you're such a sweetheart. However did you know I've been wanting one of those for _years_?"

"Hmm, I'm quite good like that."

A panicked beetle ran in frantic circles within the jar.

"Funny thing is, I found it crawling across one of the classified filing cabinets in the Auror's office," Draco said, running his hand through his platinum blond hair. "Specifically, the one containing _your_ records, Granger."

The beetle in the jar was now slamming itself against the lid of the jar in a desperate attempt to pop it up.

"I thought that was rather interesting, considering that we've had that rash of incidents with classified Ministry information being leaked to the media of late," Draco went on. "By the way, I've been absolutely _dying_ to try out this new toy I got at the Wheezes. It's an explosive bug zapper. George marketed it to the Americans for their Fourth of July celebrations. The more bugs, the more intense fireworks you get. It's absolutely brilliant. Just _think_ of what it could do in a bog," he added with clear relish.

Draco took out a small black box, opened the lid and plunked the jar down inside. He closed the lid and smiled. "Sensory-proof. She's probably going nutters right now."

"You know, Malfoy, there _is_ a pretty substantial reward for apprehending a spy at the Ministry," Harry suggested.

"Oh, I think this extra-special treat goes to Granger, Potter," Draco said with a sniff of derision. "They have a—well established history of scorn, yes?"

"I know _just_ what to do with this!" Hermione said, snatching up the box, planting a swift kiss on a startled Draco's forehead, and dashing off across the room.

Draco's eyes grew as wide as saucers.

Both wizards watched as Hermione smoothly went into a dance with the Minister for Magic, leaning into Kingsley just enough to whisper in his ear as they danced.

"Skeeter is _so_ dead," Harry whispered, grinning madly.

Malfoy's eyes darted at him. "Yeah, trying for sympathy and coming up with nothing," he sniffed. "Not after she wrote that load of piss and drivel about my father having a secret lovechild with my dear, demented, and unlamented Auntie Bellatrix."

Harry watched, transfixed, as Kingsley slipped the small box into an inner pocket of his robes and gained a very disturbing glint in his dark eyes. With an elegant swirl, he dipped Hermione and pulled her up, placing a gentlemanly kiss on the back of her hand before gliding off to attend to his many other social and Ministry affairs.

Hermione returned, silent and smug, looking very much the feline that had not only eaten the canary but had eaten all of his friends as well.

"So, Granger," Draco said, eyeing her a bit nervously. "I figured you'd at least make the bint walk across burning lava a few times before giving her up."

Hermione gave a small, secretive, knowing smile. "Hrm, who's to say she doesn't think she's doing exactly that?"

Harry whistled. "And this is why you don't _ever_ want to piss off Hermione."

"You only have to be punched in the face once to figure _that_ out, Potter," Draco said with a derisive sniff.

"Can't say I've ever had the pleasure, Malfoy."

"I could slug you right now just so you don't feel left out, Scarhead," the blond offered with a smirk.

"No thanks, Ferret."

Harry's face twisted in thought. "Hermione, why is it that you taught me how to be an Animagus, but you've never once showed me what you turn into?"

Hermione arched a brow. "Do you think I actually _need_ to be an Animagus to teach advanced Transfiguration?"

Harry frowned slightly. "I guess I just thought—"

Hermione eyed him, one slim eyebrow arched high.

"Don't ever assume, right," Harry said with a sigh. "It'd be nice to have something to help keep me from getting stuck between trees all the time. I don't have a bloody clue how the wild ones manage it."

"The wild ones who fail are probably eaten," Draco mused.

"Well, that's a rather depressing thought, thanks for that, Malfoy."

"Anytime, Potter," Draco responded with a small bow and a smirk.

Hermione just snorted, shaking her head.

"So, what was your big hurry to get up and see Professor McGonagall all about?" Harry asked, clearly curious.

Hermione's expression darkened. "I had a rather pressing question for Professor Dumbledore's portrait."

Harry straightened. "What kind of question?"

Hermione stared into her neglected glass of tea as if it held all the secrets of the universe.

"Hermione?"

"Granger," Draco said together with Harry.

"I asked him if he, well, Dumbledore, had ever used a memory charm on me," Hermione answered.

"And," Harry encouraged.

"And he flatly refused to answer me," Hermione growled. "Professor McGonagall had to command his portrait to answer my question truthfully."

"Wait, _what_?" Draco leaned in. "What—why—?"

"Apparently, my helping Harry was part of a great plan that he had set into motion from my very first year," Hermione said, her face completely devoid of affect. "So much so, that when Ron drove me to the point of running off crying to the Astronomy Tower, fully intending to throw myself off of it in the midst of my pain and suffering, Dumbledore realised that I needed a bit of "help" getting on board with his plan for me to take care of Harry and Ron, and not compromising the mission he had planned for us."

Hermione sipped her tea, staring through Harry. "He obliviated me of every single time that I had been hurt and suffering—every time Ron and I had gotten into an ugly row—so I would forget what I was upset and easily forgive him. Then, when it started getting more complicated, he implanted a fixation on him within me, so that I would crave and actually seek out his attentions. All so I would stay the third member of a trio that ultimately led to Harry walking out into the bloody forest… to die."

"It was all for the "greater good", Miss Granger," she spat, making air quotes with her fingers. "I am so very sorry."

"Anyway, when Dumbledore died, his spells began to unravel, and I started to remember bits and pieces and retain my earlier annoyance with Ronald," Hermione said. "It was only fairly recently that I started realising I had a few blank spots in my memories—some of which you noticed before, Malfoy. So I performed a scan on myself—a deeper one, a scan for something far more insidious. I'd been Obliviated, so I checked into the memory ward at St Mungo's, and it took them a few weeks to remove all the blocks that had been implanted into my mind. They cannot, however, release the memories. That, I must do with time and perseverance."

"Merlin, Hermione," Harry gasped, grasping her hand. "I'm so sorry! I didn't—How could I have—damnit!"

"I always wondered why you forgave Weasel so often and so easily," Draco admitted. "It seemed strange to me, but I had figured it was some crazy Gryffindor loyalty thing."

"Most of it _is_ coming back, at least I think it is," Hermione admitted, "but there are still pieces missing in there I cannot explain, much less figure out. Pieces he completely removed from my mind with no intention of ever giving them back."

"Did you ask the portrait?" Harry asked.

Hermione nodded. "Dumbledore's portrait-self doesn't know—it's like he deliberately left that part out when he was transferring memories to his portrait."

"Yet he was perfectly okay with admitting he had kept you from hating the Weasel?"

Hermione looked up. "Yes."

"What the _hell_ could be so terrible about Dumbledore's mission that erasing your memories was considered to be perfectly acceptable?" Draco hissed, anger clear in his silver-grey eyes.

Hermione tilted her chin up. "I don't know, Draco. I really don't."

The three exchanged worried glances.

* * *

As a hundred some dancing partners came and went, or so Hermione believed, she was rapidly becoming incredibly tired. One after one, a veritable parade of "suitors" had come her way, eager to play a part in Malfoy's plan to make a furious Ron incriminate himself. Like sharks smelling blood in the water, all of the Slytherins came out of the woodwork, eager to prove that they hadn't lost touch with the manipulator within themselves.

Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Marcus Flint, and a host of others practically oozed satisfaction as they swept Hermione off her feet, if only as particularly desirable role in a play. They kept her just out of range of an increasingly red-faced Ron, who had been trying to make his move on her all night long.

Each Slytherin was extremely careful to place their hands in blatantly suggestive places as they danced by, enough to tweak Ron's temper just that little bit more. Hermione was not wholly innocent in the game, either. She blushed, and giggled, and batted her eyelashes in the manner of Lavender Brown. If she was going have a night out with so many suitors, she was going to make a proper show of it.

Finally, as the music began to slow down, and the final song was starting to begin, Draco swept in, tapping Marcus on the shoulder and giving him a courtly bow. He took Hermione's hands and spun her into an intricate waltz, making use of the entire dance floor to elegantly glide Hermione across it. He held her close, then twirled, and then he dipped, leaning over her but a tiny fraction away from her face with an incredibly smug grin on his handsome face.

"I would, you know," Draco whispered.

Hermione looked into his silver eyes with a sad expression.

"I would marry you, even if it was just to keep Weaselbee from meeting a very messy end at your hands, you know," he told her with a slight downturn of his lips.

"I really appreciate that, Malfoy," Hermione replied, twisting her face to look blissfully happy to any curious onlookers, "but we both know your parents would not handle such a thing very well. Even as a mercy marriage."

Draco gently pressed his lips to her ear, "I wouldn't care."

Oh, how far they had come. Now, nearly a decade since she'd socked him in the face, they had somehow become friends—good enough friends that he would willingly bind himself to her to save her from a fate arguably worse than death. They were friends enough that he'd risk being disowned by his parents for her sake, even if she didn't truly love him in the ways even he deserved.

She realised, in that moment of truth, that Draco deserved better than to be strung along in a marriage of mercy. He deserved to be happy with someone who saw him as their earth and sky. He, like Viktor, was still searching for the one, and that one was not her.

"I know, Draco," she replied, using his given name for the first time in a rare moment of solidarity. "And I truly love you for it, but I won't. I cannot."

"Stubborn, foolish Gryffindor," Draco breathed softly into her ear.

"Self-serving, manipulative Slytherin," she replied, a small, sad smile on her face.

He fell to one knee an instant after the music stopped. A low murmur and an expectant hush came over everyone around.

"Hermione Jean Granger," Draco spoke up loud and clear. "I have loved you since the day you punched me in the face in our third year. Will you be my wife and help me raise the name of Malfoy to the stars?"

Hermione's face softened.

"You sodding Slytherin git!" Ronald roared as he pushed his way through the crowd. "You get your slimy, scaly paws off my 'Mione! Like she'd ever marry some bloody evil git like you. Fucking Death Eater!"

 _Check_.

"Name calling, is it?" Draco purred, standing up and gently placing Hermione behind him. "She's a free witch. I see no ring on her third left. She has the right to choose, and I have the right to ask. Even if she says no, we will still be mates, Weaselbee. That must chafe you like a pair of sandpaper underpants, ay?"

"'Ey now, what's goin' on 'ere?" Hagrid bellowed loudly, trudging into the middle of the fray without caring overmuch what was going on. He grabbed for Draco, thinking that the blond wizard was somehow hurting Hermione.

As soon as Draco wasn't there to stop it, Ron grabbed Hermione by the wrist and yanked her to his side. "Come on, 'Mione! We're getting married like we should have after the war was over and putting an end to this bloody farce. Let's go right **_now_**!"

"Wait, wha—unhand me, Ron!" Hermione yelled, attempting to jerk herself away from the offending redhead.

Ron made a strange face and let her go, but it was only to grasp her again, "Come _on_ , 'Mione!"

"Let go of me this instant, Ronald!"

"Hey, let the lady go," someone said nearby.

Draco was there in a flash, crushing Ron's wrist with his hand, forcing his tendons to shift and release her. "Let. Her. Go. Weasel," the blond wizard snarled lowly.

And then suddenly, everything changed.

Ron's face grew dark. "Dumbledore _promised_ me success. He said that as long as Hermione and I were together, Harry would win, and he did, didn't he? So, I want what's mine! I want what I was promised, I bloody well earned it! It's not like anyone else wanted the bint! Harry was too interested in Cho Chang, and Ginny had to use all sorts of charms just to get him interested in her, and even _then_ he wouldn't have cared about Hermione. She's just a lowly Muggleborn! Hell, I'm doing her a bloody _favour_!"

"Whu— ** _WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?_** " Molly's voice screeched shrilly from somewhere in the crowd.

Ron stormed towards Hermione again, rubbing his wrist where Draco had practically crushed it. Hermione was still frozen from the shock of what she had just learned and looked on dazedly. Harry and Draco were trying to intercept. Hagrid came wading in, bellowing something like, "You best **_never_** talk about 'Ermione like that!"

And then the room came alive with jinxes, curses, hexes, and protective shields. The chandelier in the ballroom came crashing down, pinning Hagrid to the flagstone floor. Aurors were rushing into the room like a swarm of angry bees. Kingsley swept Hermione up in his arms as he moved her out of the ballroom to safety.

Hermione—half in shock and half in rage, was beginning to convulse.

"No, Hermione," Kingsley grunted, pushing her out as the battle of the ballroom started to reach critical mass. "This is absolutely _not_ the place you want to have your sphinx coming out party," he gently whispered into her ear.

Hermione's eyes were dilated, her breaths coming in short gasps, but she nodded to Kingsley, fighting hard to clamp down on her control. Her eyes tracked various people as they dove for cover and others who tried to tackle Ron. The enraged redhead's eyes were crazy, flashing with some strange, suppressed anger.

Kingsley, pressing his hands against her changing paws, looked her in the eyes. "Easy now, we'll take care of him and find out what is going on. Go take a flight, love."

Hermione stared at him, conflicted. She winced, her fangs showing as her ears took on a more pointed, tufted appearance. But as she met Kingsley's gaze, meeting with his calm, warm, always compassionate energy, her breathing started to ease.

"I promise you," Shacklebolt vowed, "I _will_ get to the bottom of this."

There was a very loud crash from the vicinity of the Great Hall.

"Well, if there is anything left of Weasley to question," Kingsley added with a wolfish smile.

Hermione let out a half-snort.

"Go find yourself a nice ley line to roll around with, hrm? That always makes you feel better."

Hermione's eyes softened, and she relaxed at last. "Thanks, Kings."

"Anytime, love," he said. "Just looking out for the best office guardian a wizard could ever ask for."

Hermione laughed, laying her head against his broad chest for a moment. "You're insufferable."

"And ruggedly handsome," Kingsley added with a cheeky wink.

"Incorrigible."

Kingsley grinned. "Minister Incorrigible to you, madam."

Hermione smiled back at him. "Thanks, boss."

"Mmhmm, off you go. I know I gave you permission to eat people who didn't answer your riddles, but you really don't need the indigestion you would surely get from noshing on Ronald Weasley's sorry hide."

Hermione chuckled softly and allowed the change to consume her, her giant sphinx form quickly towering over him as she shook herself from head to tail tip.

 _"_ _Easily lost but hard to gain,_

 _It rises up when under strain._

 _This is the thing that lies in your heart,_

 _Deep within and seldom apart._

 _Polished by countless battles,_

 _When courage fails and faith is rattled._

 _This you have within your soul,_

 _Etched within, emblazoned bold."_

Kingsley looked upon the face of the sphinx, bowing low. "Without honour, we are nothing."

Hermione smiled at him, the look of a predator mingled on her half-human face. Her fangs glinted as her lips curled up.

 _"_ _Blessings upon you, human man,_

 _Chase the riddle, if you can._

 _Honour upon you, given form._

 _I bow to you, this given norm._

 _Answer me this before I go,_

 _And this shall rise between us grow._

 _What is this thing no hand may force._

 _What grows within without remorse?_

 _Between two people,_

 _Not always love—_

 _Its wings do whisper like the calling dove._

 _What binds one to another clear,_

 _And draws the other in quite near._

 _Friendship grows within its embrace,_

 _But without it there can be no trace._

 _Answer me this, human man._

 _Chase this riddle, if you can."_

"You really should have been a Ravenclaw, Hermione," Kingsley said with amusement, his head bowed in thought. "Respect."

Hermione launched up into the air on giant wings, sailing off over Black Lake.

"Good to know I get to keep my life tonight," Kingsley sighed with relief. "I'd hate to see what her riddles would be like if she hated my guts."

* * *

Hermione didn't take long to find a good ley line. Thankfully, Hogwarts was chock full of them. Some speculated that it was the reason places became "sentient" after long-term exposure to the leys, but Hermione would have disagreed. Her cottage had, after all, become a mini-Hogwarts, and it had not taken especially long for it to do so.

The very moment that sphinx and leyline met, she spun in the air doing barrel rolls, happy to feel the tingle of such powerful magic caressing her body. The ley line seemed quite happy to greet her as well, for it wrapped around her like a cocoon and seemed to sing with energy.

 _Pop!_

A little energy sphinxlet formed, cartwheeled happily about her head, and then zoomed off into the night.

She really did wonder where they went when they left her. Sometimes they stuck around. Sometimes they wandered off. It was quite an intriguing mystery. It wasn't like there were any books out there detailing sphinx and ley line life cycles. There weren't even books detailing sphinx life cycles in general, save the few that stated the plainly obvious: "ancient magical animal with the head of a human and the body of a lion," "loves riddles," and "eats those who can't answer said riddles."

It was enough that Kingsley had managed to preemptively excuse her for eating people who couldn't answer _her_ riddles. The grim reputation of the sphinx was deeply embedded within the psyche of the wizarding world. They were incredibly dangerous, but they always gave you a fighting chance: a chance to answer their riddle—or die messily.

She didn't have the heart to tell Harry that she had tried to eat a fair number of the Death Eaters that had been pursuing him to avenge the death of their master, the late and unlamented Dark Lord Voldemort, but the Dark magic that existed within them—perhaps because of the Mark, perhaps because of the long-term exposure to such overwhelming hatred—tainted the meat and made it something truly foul. She ended up ripping them to shreds with her massive paws and hastily burying the remains.

Many believed the war was long over. Hermione knew better. Kingsley knew better. So, too, did the Wizengamot.

After she had "disposed" of a few such bodies, one of the Wizengamot members had demanded to see the evidence that anything had happened at all. Maybe she had simply murdered a rival, after all. Kingsley had personally extracted the memory of said events from her mind to ensure she was beyond reproach, and then he had delivered the half-decomposed, savagely mauled corpse to the floor of the Wizengamot, complete with a rather damning arm of evidence.

The member had promptly fled the Wizengamot floor to violently expel everything she had eaten since the day she was born.

There had been a few requests to see said sphinx—the proof being in the seeing, even in the Wizarding world. Kingsley had stayed beside her the entire time, keeping her calm as they asked her a series of questions, and pointedly reminded them that if _she_ were to ask a question, not answering could trigger an rather unfortunate instinctive response within Hermione.

Thankfully, after seeing the remains of the victim of the previous topic of interest, they were very, _very_ polite.

After that, she had been issued her identification collar, all necessary clearances to roam the Ministry, and strict orders were given to all members of Ministry security to stay the hell out of her way. There was only one of her, after all, which made her very easy to identify. Being the only great sphinx in Wizarding Britain _did_ have its perks.

Oddly enough, even though she worked at the Ministry and under the same roof as Harry, Ron, and Draco, she was very careful to not show up at work as a sphinx, so her dual identity remained carefully protected. Those who needed to know, knew, but Harry had asked her why she started wearing a Usekh collar all the time.

"Because I gave it to her," Kingsley had informed him. "It's been in my family for generations. I think it looks quite stunning on her, don't you?"

Those who knew, however, recognised that collar instantly and understood what it was connected to. No one gave her any grief, which was a strangely satisfying feeling after so many years of being thought of as nothing but a swotty little bit of baggage or filthy Mudblood scum. The Wizengamot was sworn to secrecy, and Hermione had a guaranteed, lifetime job at the Ministry doing what she did best: acquiring knowledge and guarding things.

It had become rather tricky to describe her job in conversation, but her stock answer was, "Warding and protective magic for high-security areas." It went over much better than "Mauling and eating unlucky trespassers." Her partner in vault guarding, Augustine, said, "At least ye aren't having to pick your teeth with bits of bones like me."

Well, of course not. She was a remarkably civilised sphinx. She even kept a toothbrush and dental floss on hand for such occasions. Psh. Dragons were _such_ amateurs. There was more to being a greater sphinx than unusually large size and a penchant for clever riddles. The unusually large size _did_ help, however, in making that perfect first impression.

Realising that she was dragging one of Hogwarts' ley lines along with her, she decided to land, choosing the dark roof she had spotted nearby as a perch. There were no lights on, so she figured either no one was home or no one was awake. Both worked just fine for her. She'd have to guide the ley line back to where it should be after she had a bit of a breather. She didn't plan to head back to Hogwarts anytime soon. Kingsley said he'd take care of it, and she trusted him to do just that. He had never once steered her wrong.

 _Crack. Crackle._

 ** _CRASH!_**

Hermione went tumbling into the house arse over teakettle. She let out a keening roar of surprise as her paws went flailing out, her claws trying to grab onto something, anything for purchase. Her wings got tangled up in debris, and her tail was being squished under her own bulk.

 ** _Splat!_**

 _Ow._

Hermione opened her eyes slowly, her breath coming out as a wheezy , strangled cough. A fine layer of plaster dust settled around her along with the remains of the rotting roofing tiles. _Eaugh_. Of all the houses she could've landed on, she just had to choose the rotting one.

 _Great job there, Hermione. Don't tell Augustine. He'll never, ever let you live it down._

 _He's never tried to land on a house,_ she hissed to herself.

 _Yeah,_ her mind mocked in response. _So why did you think a giant sphinx would fare any better? Hrm?_

 _Shut it,_ she answered herself.

"Great, now I'm talking to myself," Hermione huffed, sending a cloud of plaster dust rolling away from her face. "Merlin, I hope I didn't kill someone by falling on them."

The paperwork alone would be murder.

Hermione shook herself off and transformed, pulling out her wand to light up the area so her human eyes could see properly. "This place… is a total dump."

Even without the rather obvious deconstruction due to one rather large sphinx crashing in from above, this place was something akin to the Lost and Never Found Room at the Ministry. There was stuff there that was literally turning to dust due to being there for so long.

"Good thing I've been well-trained in magical house construction and repair," Hermione muttered to herself.

Taking her wand in hand, she got to work, "Reparo!"

Wood creaked and snapped into place, paper flew, cloth mended, plaster reset itself, and the ceiling tiles went flying up to take their places. Books went flying back onto newly-mended shelves, and tables and lamps replaced themselves about the room. An antique-looking piano took form, assembling itself from what had previously been a pile of broken keys and strings, deep gouges in the walls that looked like claw marks disappeared without a trace, and—

"Is that _blood_?" Hermione gasped as the lamps came to life and revealed the room as a whole to her horrified gaze. "Ugh."

She continued to work steadily until everything was spotless, the hardwood floor was smooth, mended, and shining, and then it slowly started to dawn on her _exactly_ where she was.

The Shrieking Shack.

Mechanically, she walked further into a place she never thought she'd see again— _prayed_ she'd never see again: the site of her ultimate failure. It was the place where the man who had repeatedly saved both her life and the lives of her friends had died, succumbing to Nagini's venom and sheer blood loss, in the place where he had nearly lost his life to a werewolf as a frightened teenaged boy so many years before.

He was murdered by Voldemort and his pet snake as she watched helplessly, and she had done _nothing_ to help him.

The wood was permanently stained with his lifeblood, and Hermione's face twisted in agony with a devastating sense of loss.

Her incredibly brave professor. Her secret mentor and friend. All of her dreams of a future reconciliation with the man that had saved her life through teaching her the magic of survival had died along with him.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, falling to her knees and gently touching the bloodstained floorboards before her. Emotion she had buried for so long seeped back into her awareness, and a sudden rush of older, long-buried memories came along with them.

* * *

"You will be fine, Hermione," Snape's face said as he wrote in a small leather-bound book. "You will be brave. You will be cunning. You will be a sickening example of a bleeding-heart Gryffindor to your friends, but with the discerning mind of a proper Slytherin witch.

He tapped the leather-bound book with a long finger. "It is almost done. I have made use of certain failsafes should my memory ever be taken from me. There is a certain chance—that you might also be affected. However, this will be your roadmap to remember everything that you once knew. You _will_ survive, Hermione. You will even save your foolish Gryffindor friends from themselves."

"Master, _please—_ "

One of Snape's large hands covered hers as the other gently brushed away tears from her cheek. " _Survive_ , Hermione. Whatever comes. Whatever might happen. Be strong. Be brave. Be the know-it-all."

"I don't want to forget you," Hermione protested.

"He will make you forget," Snape explained calmly, inexorably. "Just as he's made Minerva forget every single horrible thing he has allowed to happen under her watch. He will make _me_ forget. But this—" He held up the leather journal. "This, Hermione, is our ace in the hole—our dragon amongst the hippogriffs. You will be prepared. When the time is right, this book will find its way to you. One way or another."

Hermione wrapped her arms around his waist and clung tightly to him. "It's not fair. It's not right!"

"I've been saying that since I realised—had you been in my life instead of Lily—so much would have been different."

"Why can't we?" Hermione protested. "You know my feelings for you!"

Snape's expression softened. "Those too will be gone, when Albus finds them. Everything we had—everything we could—will be gone. There will only be this." He tapped the leather book firmly. "Spells and survival."

He brushed her cheek. "You are already old before your time, Hermione, and what I have asked of you for the last six years has been so much more than I have ever dared ask of anyone before. I know that you believe these emotions are real, and perhaps they are, but we cannot indulge ourselves at this time. We dare not to dream, not yet. One day, perhaps, should we survive all of this. After you have made your mark, found a career that you love, after you have taken a few years to think on what it is that you truly want. Should you decide what you want is me, then you will be able remember enough to find me… and then beat me about the head and shoulders to remind me of why you have been the only one I would ever take on as my apprentice."

"Why do you have to be so bloody noble," Hermione whispered bitterly into his robes.

"Psh," Severus replied. "What I want is a powerful thing, Hermione. I would have you be very sure it is what you want before inflicting myself upon you more than I already have as your master."

"I know _exactly_ what I want," Hermione insisted, her eyes imploring him to believe her.

"I have waited an entire lifetime, Hermione. What is a few more years to be absolutely sure? When you are older, established—then no one will have the right to judge you for your choices. No one will tarnish you or think you have been manipulated by a greasy old bat. And if they do, well—You did deal with Madam Umbridge quite satisfactorily. Pity that Albus chose to go rescue her."

Hermione flushed, burying her face in his robes.

A gentle hand alighted on her hair. "Only you, Hermione, would seek comfort in this battle-scarred body." He placed something in her hands.

Hermione sniffled and stared at the small box in her hands. She opened the small ribbon on it and opened the box. A goblin silver ring, woven in delicate patterns surrounded a shining garnet.

"It's my embarrassingly Gryffindor birthstone," Severus muttered into her hair. "Feel free to cast it into the **_MFFFFFFPH!_** "

His words were cut off by a petite Gryffindor witch pulling his face down to hers and cutting off his air supply with a fierce kiss.

As she pulled away, entirely shameless but afraid he would scold her, Severus sighed, his face torn between pain and affection. "Happy 17th birthday, Miss Granger. You are officially an adult witch."

Hermione looked saddened. "You're still going to make me wait, aren't you?"

Severus closed his eyes and nodded firmly. "Unfortunately, Miss Granger. I must ascertain that we aren't under some sort of manipulative spell. You may yet awaken tomorrow morning and wish to thoroughly scour your brain with Scourgify."

Hermione turned her face away even as she placed the delicate garnet ring on her finger. "It won't change anything, you know." She combed her fingers through the fabric of his robes.

"Many terrible things will happen before the end of this war, Hermione," Severus said softly. The use of her given name caused her to look up at him. "I will not blame you if you should choose a different path in life. Believe that. I am merely saddened I will not get to see you make your first transformation into a bunny rabbit, a hedgehog, or some other sickeningly adorable animal form."

Hermione groaned, beating on his sides with her fists. "I will _not_ be some cutesy little animal!"

"I'm sure you'll be a fit and proper kitten for Minerva to mother endlessly," he replied with a mischievous gleam in his black eyes.

Hermione scoffed. "Y—y—you!"

"Speechless, Miss Granger? Is this even possible? Are the end times truly upon us?"

"I hate you so much," Hermione muttered into his arm.

"See? I _knew_ it wouldn't last."

"I'm so telling _everyone_ that you are a really sweet person. And that you love Care Bears and have a stuffed hippogriff named 'Cuddles'"

"You wouldn't _dare_."

"I'm a Gryffindor," she hissed with a martial glint in her eye.

Snape glowered at her, his black eyes darkening. "So you are, but out there, they won't care if you are a Gryffindor and Slytherin or a random girl who innocently turned up in the wrong place at the wrong time." His eyes closed as he ran his hand through his hair. "You'll be the enemy, and if you don't keep your head about you—you'll end up dead."

Hermione squared her jaw, staring deeply into his eyes. "I'll find you. After it is all done. I _will_ find you."

Snape's pale hand alighted on her head ever so lightly.

"I wish that could happen," he said rather grimly.

"You will survive," Hermione protested. "You survived the first war. You're alive now. You can't die—not after all of this!"

Snape touched her cheek, brushing his thumb across her cheek. "I serve two masters, Hermione. Neither of whom desire me to outlive my usefulness."

* * *

She sat down heavily on the now-pristine armchair. "Well, at least I can say I left it far better than it started out. This place was a dump even back in third year."

"I truly appreciate you making my afterlife hellhole somewhat more hospitable, Miss Granger."

Dark robes hung like a funeral shroud over pale, white skin. Dark, fathomless eyes seemed to stare into her very soul, yet the books behind him were clearly visible through the insubstantial physical manifestation of one Severus Snape.

"Ma—Professor Snape?"

Hermione instantly shot out of the chair she was in, half-wild with panic. Surprise, pain, guilt, and every single feeling she had ever harboured towards this strangely compelling man for so many years came flooding out in an all-encompassing tidal wave of pure emotion. She shifted, her body instinctively transforming into the great sphinx. Her body tumbled into the nearby wall, crashing through it like it was nothing but a brittle sheaf of parchment. She roared, eyes wide with surprise, her paws flailing helplessly as she fell flat on her back, rolled onto her legs, and poofed out, every hair on her body standing straight on end.

Professor Snape stood frozen in the makeshift new doorway, his nose crinkling as he stared out at her with an expression that flickered between amusement, astonishment, and mild dismay. "It's quite a surprise to see you as well, Miss Granger. I notice that you've apparently undergone some—rather dramatic changes since last we… spoke."

Hermione's pointed ears were pressed flat against her skull. She swallowed convulsively, her eyes very wide with shock. "I thought you were dead. I saw you die. There was so much blood—I tried," she trailed off. "I tried, but there was so much blood." Hermione's face twisted in clear anguish.

"I'm not here to haunt you, Miss Granger," Snape's apparition told her gently, with a slight softening of his great dark eyes. "I am aware that you tried to save me. I fear I am—inexplicably drawn to you."

Hermione flushed, her hind leg reaching to scratch behind her ear in a nervous twitch. "What—what was the last time you remember speaking to me?"

Snape's ghostly countenance shimmered as he frowned. "The last day of class. It was your sixth year, I think. I told you to get the hell out of my classroom, to take yourself and your bleeding heart off to join your two dunderheaded friends."

Hermione winced, closed her eyes, and turned her head away. She sat down on her haunches and drooped visably. "I see."

There was the slight rustle of non-corporeal fabric as Snape moved out from the somewhat abused Shrieking Shack. "Miss Granger, I feel there is something inexplicably missing from this equation. Your reaction to me is—quite unexpected."

"I'm sure most people don't turn into a greater sphinx and smash through a wall on reunification, no," Hermione quipped, her tail still poofy from her earlier stress.

"No, Miss Granger," the Potions master replied. "But that is not what I mean. You were visibly upset that my last memory of you was of me ordering you from my classroom. Why?"

"You could have picked a better memory, that's all," Hermione said quietly.

"I may have died, Miss Granger, but I didn't die an idiot, nor was I ever oblivious to body language," Snape said, eyeing her with a slight frown.

"Did you ever have an apprentice, Professor?"

Snape frowned. "Never. There isn't one child with sufficient work ethic to make it worth my while."

"Wouldn't know the the difference between a pinch of aconite and a gram of sodium."

One dark eyebrow lifted into his phantom hair.

"Ask me a question that no one would know other than someone you trusted completely."

"I trust no one, Miss Granger."

"Suppose you did. Humour me. You asked, after all—why."

Snape frowned in thought. "What wards are— _were—_ on my chambers at Hogwarts?"

"Blinding and deafening wards on your hearth to prevent Dumbledore from eavesdropping on you in your rooms. Fire wards ring the outside of your chambers if this specific symbol is not traced on the brick—five to the left, six down from the top." Hermione traced a symbol in the air with her claw, etching it in floating magic. The innermost layer is pacification—all who enter and are not authorised to do so feel a sudden overwhelming desire to have tea and put biscuits on their pinky. The third is a tracer that goes directly back to you, telling you exactly who is there and what they are doing. The fourth is mass paralysis—if they touch anything in your chambers without neutralising the first three wards, they are frozen in place."

Snape stared at her in shock. "How— _how_ do you know all this? Did you dismantle my wards?"

"Your quarters are precisely as you left them," Hermione answered. "No one knew how to disable the wards—and I cost too much."

"You… being an expert on warding," Snape growled.

"Actually—yes." Hermione looked up, squaring her jaw. "My master taught me everything he knew."

"There is no one out there who could have taught you my wards. No one," Snape hissed.

"You're right," Hermione said sadly. "No one out there could have."

"Talk sense, Miss Granger."

"Sense is only an collection of opinions and bias commonly united under the same banner."

"Who taught you _that_?"

Hermione closed her eyes and turned away. "My master."

"You had no master at Hogwarts. I would have known."

Hermione sighed heavily. "You did."

"How? _How_ could you possibly have had such a master?"

"I once set his robes on fire without him seeing me," Hermione told him quietly. "And in my second year, I brewed a polyjuice potion with ingredients I stole from his storeroom."

Hermione squared her shoulders with a ripple of powerful muscles underneath her tawny fur. "My... punishment for being caught was agreeing to accept his offer of apprenticeship."

"My third year was spent time-turning my classes under Dumbledore's blessing, but what he didn't know was that I wasn't just time-turning for my Hogwarts classes. I also turned for my apprenticeship—the apprenticeship no one knew about save myself and my master."

Hermione winced, holding her head as if it pained her to remember, then she stared skyward, searching the skies for some answer or a shooting star to make the conversation seem less like torture. "I turned twenty on the day I officially became seventeen, give or take a few months for time slips. Fortunately for me—I aged well."

"If you don't remember this, don't feel bad. I didn't either until very recently when I discovered that I had been memory charmed. And even now—old memories come calling when I least expect them. Like now. Heh, can you imagine? I just wish—it didn't hurt so much."

Hermione stood and shook herself from nose to tail tip with a small grunt of release. "The great irony is, had I come into my inner sphinx in time, I would have been immune to memory charms. Sphinxes are strangely resistant to that sort of thing. Memory charms… tend to make us _hungry_. Obliviates make us… irrationally wrathful. I think I may have eaten someone. Why am I only remembering this _now_? Ach! He was… _gamey_. Who doesn't know a simple thing that doesn't have a lock, key, or lid but golden treasure inside is hid. Come _on_! That was too easy, practically a giveaway. I was only just starting out!"

Severus was staring holes through the back of her head. Hermione froze in mid-tirade and slowly turned. "Sorry. I—was having a moment."

" _Ob_ viously," he intoned.

Hermione blew her hair away from her face, her almond eyes closing slightly as she took in a deep breath and let it out very slowly.

"Miss Granger," Severus said carefully. "When is my birthday?"

"January ninth, nineteen sixty," Hermione answered. "Your birthstone is garnet, but you think it terribly Gryffindor. Your father was a bastard. Your mother was abused, and your best friend growing up never forgave you for saying a single word in anger—and oh my, where the _hell_ was all that coming from?"

Hermione clutched her head, groaning in pain. "You hate your middle name because it's your father's. Your favourite tea is a mixture of English and Irish with just one leaf of bergamot. You used to practice curses on flies and other insects, imagining them to be your father. Your mother caught you trying to slip a potion in your father's tea to make him sleep so he wouldn't beat her… she stole it away and later that night, he beat her to death. The constables called it a tragic accident, but you _knew_ better. The night you intended to kill him, he had killed himself—too drunk to walk, and he broke his neck after he tumbled down the staircase—ahhhhh, too much, too much, it **_HURTS_**!"

She clutched her head tightly with her paws, groaning under the onslaught of memory. She staggered, slamming into the nearby tree, a rock, a stump, and then the wall of the house just before collapsing in an agonised heap.

The nearby ley lines, drawn by her distress, gathered around her, swirling around her like the spinning of a cocoon. Energy arched and rippled, and small sphinxlets tumbled off during the union of raw energy. They bounced and flew circles around Hermione and seemed extra curious about Snape. The little energy creature seemed to appraise him, staring him right in the eyes as he fluttered only hairs away.

 _Bsszzzt!_

The little energy sphinx flew into his "body" and disappeared. Others seemed have other places to be, and they fluttered off, fading into the dark of the night sky. A few snuggled up to Hermione's face like cats affectionately rubbing against their mistress' leg before flying away into the warm summer night.

Hermione groaned, her leonine body twitching with the aftershocks of her suffering.

Instinctively, perhaps, Snape reached over to her, his pale, shimmering hand touching the space between her tawny, tufted ears. The moment it touched—really touched—there was a flash of searing heat and an instant magical connection that jolted to life between them. The memories poured out of her and into him, bowling him over with such incredible force that she heard the sound of him crashing soundly against the floorboards.

The smell of ozone hung thick in the air—ozone and charred hair.

Hermione blearily tried to lift her head, moaned, and instantly set it back down on her paws. "Errghhh."

She stared at the smoking hole in the side of the Shrieking Shack, wincing as she realised there was even more work to be done to restore the battered place back into working order—if it had ever been in working order to begin with. Dust, smoke, and debris continued to swirl about in strange clouds before finally settling. She heard harsh coughing coming from within the shack and winced.

"Professor?" she called. "I'm so sorry—"

Two huge, black paws came out of the gaping hole first followed by Snape's rather pale face attached to a magnificent lion's body. Pointed, tufted ears were pinned back across his head as his new, feline teeth bared in disgust. His wings, half-unfolded and awkward, smashed into the sides of the hole, causing even more plaster and wood to collapse around him.

"Fucking Albus Dumbledore. If he wasn't already dead, I'd fucking _murder_ him!"

Hermione's jaw dropped to the ground.

Professor Snape had become a sphinx. His coal black eyes stared into Hermione's as his face paled and went slack.

" _Hermione_?"

* * *

"Severus?" Hermione whispered, her voice guarded, yet hopeful.

There was a flurry of movement, tangled wings, paws, legs, and hair as the two sphinxes slammed into each other, rubbing, purring, rolling, and scent marking each other. Then, suddenly, the pair seemed to realise this situation wasn't exactly normal, and they both sat down on their haunches at the same time making the same rather puzzled, awkward face at each other.

Hermione's tail was puffed out like a puffskein.

"I thought you were dead."

" ** _I_** thought I was dead."

They stared at each other, tails twitching.

"I didn't know you were a sphinx."

"I wasn't—until just a few minutes ago."

They stared at each other, each speaking at the same time and managing to talk over the other.

"I've been living in this bloody hellhole, my body passing through everything since the night of my supposed death," Snape said, frowning. "I hadn't been able to do anything more than move a few papers around and stir up a bit of dust."

Hermione chewed on her bottom lip worriedly, her fangs flashing. "Well, you _did_ say I had to go make my way in the world before finding you again," she told him with a sheepish grin.

Ley lines were swirling around Severus, moving around his legs and his belly, gliding against his body as they were getting to know him. His eyes went wide. "Why does that feel so—"

"Like greeting an old friend long parted," Hermione finished softly.

"Yes." Severus tilted his head as an energy sphinxlet popped into existence, rubbed against his cheek, and then zoomed off into the night.

"I feel like I should have a stiff drink or at least a very expensive cigar," the wizard grunted, stretching his sleekly muscular bulk.

"I think I may have quite a selection of each back home," Hermione mused. I have a rather impressive hoard of such things thanks to many, many would-be suitors.

One black eyebrow arched into a fall of coal black mane-like hair. "Oh?"

Hermione bared her fangs. "A great many long and uninteresting stories, I fear. Let us just say that I cannot fathom the sudden appeal of one such as myself, who spent most of her life treated like a pariah and considered to be nothing more than a worthless little Mudblood witch."

Snape's expression darkened. "Do not cheapen yourself with such words."

Hermione's expression hardened. "Tell me, Professor. What memories do you have of me that are not just about an insufferable know-it-all chit who annoys you so much that you sneer into her tear-streaked face to claim that you see no difference in her grossly oversized teeth? Why—tell me, _why_ should I believe you?" Her topaz eyes were afire, her gaze blazing across him with a sense of fiery, shimmering heat. Her claws were fully extended and her teeth were bared menacingly.

"This emotion grows, nestled deep—

Past the baring of glistening teeth.

Grown deep within each passing pain,

Fertilised by insult gained.

One by one, unkindness grew.

Again, and again mockeries anewed.

Tell me why I should believe you now—

When all affection you disavow."

Pain flickered across Hermione's face as she stared at Snape.

Snape flinched, his face twisting with newly remembered pain.

"Hatred is the answer you seek.

It is this that makes your heart seem bleak.

If the memories you shared with me are true.

I pray you, let us build anew.

Give me the chance to see the truth—

Or let me wallow like a tortured youth."

For a moment, Snape's expression was pained but sincere, and the flash of anger that had accompanied Hermione's outburst slowly softened. "I'm sorry. I don't know where that wave of rage came from." Hermione winced apologetically. "I've never—ever blamed you for that. I _swear_ it." She tore frantically at her mane with her claws.

 _"_ _No, my boy. I fear she will_ _ **never**_ _see you as anything special ever again."_

Severus clutched at his head, quickly sinking to the floor as a painful flood of memories hammered their way through meticulously crafted walls that were _not_ of his own making.

* * *

 _"_ _You will not be distracted from the task I have assigned to you. And I will not have her be distracted from the task she is meant to perform. Harry Potter is too important—too vital to the ultimate greater good. She will put her brain to work for him and keep him safe until it is time for him to face Tom for the final time. While they do what they must, you will keep Tom distracted and unaware of what they seek to end him. I fear there will be no room left for foolish romantic entanglements, even if she does happen to be of age. Such tender emotions were never meant for the likes of you, my boy."_

* * *

"Arrrghk!" Snape hissed, letting out a low groan of agony. "What have you **done** to me, Albus?" Memories, jagged things that cut like shattered glass, tore through his mind as they ripped out of the walls that had held them.

* * *

 _"_ _As exceedingly rare as you are, Severus, now that you've attracted a remarkable number of healthy ley lines to Hogwarts, I fear I cannot risk you perhaps deciding to leave here and take them with you. Seeing as you would never want anyone to know that you are far more of an outsider than anyone had ever guessed—I'm sure you wouldn't want anyone to discover your little secret, Severus. I'm really doing you quite a large favour, you see. In exchange, you get your Potions apprenticeship and a lifetime job here at Hogwarts, the Light wins, and Miss Evans never has to learn that her oldest friend is actually a class four dangerous magical beast."_

* * *

Snape rolled on the ground in the rubble of the fallen wall, gripping his head with his paws as his claws dug insistently into his mane of hair.

Hermione promptly bounded over to him, her claws digging into the earth as she skidded to a stop to his side. Her paws gently caressed his flank, perhaps to offer what comfort she could.

Snape's eyes widened with her touch upon him. He locked gazes with her, pained.

* * *

 _"_ _No, please," Severus groaned cradling Hermione as she slumped backwards, her eyes eyes rolling back into her head._

 _"_ _I warned you, Severus, what would happen if you became too close—too attached to Miss Granger."_

 _"_ _She has done nothing!"_

 _"_ _Nothing but distract you from my plans."_

 _Hermione convulsed, her body fighting frantically against the spell—her mind screaming, clawing, desperately trying to hold on to all it knew. She stared into Severus' black eyes, betrayal and pain clear in her eyes—in her soul. She clung to his robes, her fear a palpable thing._

 _"_ _Master," Hermione whimpered, clinging to him._

 _"_ _Hermione," he groaned, touching her hair to brush it tenderly away from her face._

 _He could feel the strain of her magic and her mind trying desperately to hold on. Just like he had taught her—like a good soldier._

 _"_ _Forgive me," he whispered, knowing what he had to do—had to do or the spell Albus used would destroy her mind in the process of trying to subjugate it._

 _"_ _No," she whimpered, her hands clutching like iron around his wrists. "No!" She knew what he had to do, and even knowing it, she fought against him, desperate to cling on to his memory._

 _"_ _It's killing you," he pleaded. "Hermione. They will not be gone forever if I do this."_

 _She shook her head. "No, no."_

 _Albus was gone, leaving him to suffer—as he always did. The old man knew that one way or another, Hermione Granger would never remember him. He knew there were only two options—three, if you counted death._

 _"_ _You will remember again," he promised her. "Please." He held her hand, his black eyes tortured._

 _She grimaced and squeezed her eyes shut, nodding as though he had just asked her to choose between killing either one member of the golden trio or the other._

 _Tenderly, Snape pressed his lips to her forehead, stroking her hair as his wand pressed to her temple, and he whispered the incantation that would seal her memories away—out of the insidious reach of Dumbledore's magic._

 _"_ _I_ _ **will**_ _remember you," he whispered, pulling the small witch against his trembling body. One tear slowly slid down his aquiline nose and dripped onto her peaceful face._

 _"_ _No, Severus," Albus voice said calmly from close behind him. The distinctive touch of a wand pressed firmly against his skull. "You won't."_

* * *

Magic surged in a rush of sizzling, electric heat, shattering the remnants of the memory blocks that had been painstakingly constructed and wedged between the one-time master and apprentice. Both sphinxes went tumbling through the air, smashing through the already very abused wall of the Shrieking Shack, before coming to a rather rough landing, lying flat on their backs upon the cool floorboards of the shack.

The black sphinx whuffed, a fine cloud of dust and plaster settling all around him. "I swear to you, Albus. If you weren't already dead, I would fucking _murder_ you, you manipulative, cold-blooded old bastard."

"Check, please," Hermione muttered into the dusty gloom of the shack, paws up in the air as she lay on her back, completely undignified. "I can't even feel my legs."

The black sphinx was instantly on his feet and bounding on into the gloom, his eyes adjusting where his human ones would not. "Hermione!"

"'Ello, my master," Hermione coughed. "I'd get up, but it seems as though I can't move at the moment."

Snape gave a low, guttural groan. He nosed Hermione, nudging her carefully with his giant, ebony paws.

Hermione coughed, wincing. "Feels somewhat anticlimactic to have been taken out by a sudden return of memories, especially after everything we've already been through—even if unknowingly."

Severus placed a paw on her haunch, staring at her with a worried, desperate expression, the lines of his face seemingly conflicted as to which emotion they should show.

Hermione's amber-flecked eyes, sad but resigned, flicked over to meet his own. "At least I remember you now—and everything that we had."

" _Still_ have," he replied, pressing his forehead tenderly to hers.

"I don't feel very—" Hermione's eyes closed slightly. "Useful right now."

"Usefulness be damned," Snape growled. "Do you think all that matters to me is that you are _useful_?"

"Given the nature of our history in the classroom?" Hermione laughed, coughing. "Ah, don't look at me like that. People will think we're in love."

"And what if they do?" he replied, his voice barely a whisper.

"I'd say it was about damn time," Hermione said, her breathing growing heavy.

Snape's face paled as she drifted off. "Hermione— _damnit—_ stay with me! Stay with me!"

Hermione's eyes fluttered slightly, but she obeyed, staring up at him with clear affection in her gaze. "Is _this_ what it takes to get your undivided attention? Had I only known, I would certainly have permitted Neville to blow me up now and then."

"There is nothing that Mr Longbottom could possibly do to make his astonishing level of sheer ineptitude even remotely permissible, much less forgivable."

"He _did_ kill Nagini with the sword of Godric Gryffindor."

"Hmph. There is that, I suppose. Did he turn into a blazing golden dragon and emit a fiery shower of hearts and rainbows across the battlefield?"

Hermione snorted. "No."

"Pity. Shoot lightning out his arse?"

"No!" Hermione giggled, despite herself. Her eyes closed slowly, and her breathing evened out. Her paw rested on his.

"Hermione?" Severus' voice cracked with emotion.

"So warm," she sighed. "So very comfortable."

A tendril of panic rose up within Snape, but as his paw rested on her, he felt it—a warm, tingling caress of pure comfort.

 _Tendrils of energy surrounded him, swirling as he bled out over the floor. Pain eased. Comfort spread across his body like a lover's caress._

It was the same as he had felt when he had "died."

Severus curled up next to Hermione, wrapping his leonine body around her. His wing unfolded to cover her as his face pressed into her mane of hair. Her scent—was a comfort all its own.

 ** _Pop!_**

 ** _Pop-pop-pop!_**

 ** _POP!_**

Little energy sphinxlets materialised out of thin air and rubbed up against her like playful kittens. Some of them rubbed, and some of them took a leap, seeming to choose to blend themselves with her, perhaps offering her some sort of healing in a way that only they could.

The ley lines were all around them, vibrating with a low, rumbling thrum. Yet, to his ears, he could hear the music in it, like the soft lull of a choir intermingled with delicate tinkling chimes. Severus snuggled into her, offering his warmth and his magic—both familiar and newly rediscovered—as well as his comfort.

The humming lull of the ley lines caused his eyes to grow heavy, and he struggled to remain conscious. It was too much effort, however—having been so long parted from his magic and his sense of being alive. His eyes slowly drifted shut, pulling him into the peaceful, encroaching blackness.

* * *

Lick.

Ear twitch.

 _Lick. Lick._

 _Twitch. Twitch. Twitch._

 _Lick!_

 _Twitch. Thwap._

Severus opened one eye to see a tawny sphinx staring at him with an amused expression. Sphinxlets were tumbling around and on her like happy kittens.

"Hi," she greeted. The loving warmth in her amber-brown eyes was unmistakeable.

"Hermione." He sat up, pressing his head against hers.

"We should write a book, I think," Hermione mused. "Sphinxes and Ley Lines: Magic's Most Magical Symbiosis."

"As much as the notion of writing such a book together appeals to me," Severus commented, "the instinct to hoard that extraordinary knowledge is even stronger."

"We could always write the book and _then_ hoard it."

"Hn."

Hermione stared at him.

"I see your point."

Hermione grinned. Her face became serious. "How come you never told me you were a sphinx?"

Severus sat down and itched behind his ear with his hind foot. "I honestly didn't remember—not until fairly recently."

Hermione stared and then seemed to understand. "Did—would _he_ have done that? Stolen something as utterly amazing as being a sphinx from you?"

"So it would seem."

Hermione shook her head, her hair flying. "How long have you been one?"

Severus frowned slightly, his eyebrows knitting together in thought. "Since—I was a teenager. I was being pursued by Potter and his moronic best mates. It had been off and on all week long. Gradually, it began to escalate. Some days I won the hexing contest. Some days, they did. More often them—seeing as it was always four against one. They strung me up, relieved me of both my trousers and my pants, and painted me crimson and gold with some sort of natural plant dyes they had made in Pomona's class. Minerva had been guiding me through my Animagus meditations, both to challenge me and to help me to gain better control of my temper."

"You, master? Temper?"

Snape gave her a heavy sigh. "I'm actually much better now than I was back then."

"Hn," she answered, mirroring him.

"Please, call me Severus," he requested. "You're a grown witch—you have been ever since your official seventeenth birthday, and we _both_ know you were considerably older than your time long before then."

Hermione smiled. "Do give me a little time—Severus. I just remembered everything today, after all."

"Point made." Severus scratched his other ear idly. "That night, when they had strung me up in front of half the school, Black decided he wanted to see what would happen if he used engorgio on my bits—saying that there wasn't much of anything there to begin with, so he couldn't possibly make it any worse."

"He _what_?!"

Severus gave her a quelling look.

"Sorry." Hermione sat on her tail, but the tip of it was puffed out like a feather duster.

"Anyway—" Severus continued. "When Black got bored, he pulled out a knife and, well, I decided I really wanted to be something else at that particular moment. I was hoping for a bird or perhaps something conveniently camouflaged. I pulled on the Animagus magic in desperation, and then I shifted for the first time."

Severus pinched his nose. "It wasn't _quite_ what I was expecting. Hell, it wasn't what anyone would have expected. I shifted, shook off all of their hexes, and was suddenly very, very hungry. I swatted them around for a few minutes, bloodied them up, and then, right when I really wanted to eat them, I felt this overwhelming need to riddle them. I just couldn't get past it. I was awful at riddles. You have _no_ idea. So, I pinned them all down between my paws as they shat themselves in terror—which was so _very_ attractive—and so I spat out this old riddle my mother had given me: My tines be long, my tines be short. My tines end 'ere my first report. So, I couldn't help but tell them, that they could just—walk away and I'd have to let them go, but if they answered incorrectly, I had every right to eat them."

"Been there. Had that exact same issue." Hermione sighed, her tail flicking with mild annoyance at the memory.

"So, Potter says pitchfork, Black yells shove it up your arse, Pettigrew pisses himself saying cheese, and Lupin just started whining and growling like a wolf." Severus grunted. "Of course, none of those was the proper answer."

"Lightning," Hermione answered promptly.

"See? Was that really so hard? I figured they would answer and I'd lose my dinner. I was so very, _very_ hungry at this point. I dragged them all down to the lake to wash them off, because I wasn't about to eat a shite-covered meal. Naturally, that was when the Headmaster appears before us all like Zeus on his bloody stormcloud, waving his wand and binding me up with some sort of spell I'd never even heard of."

Severus growled and shook his head. "My first night—barely even a few minutes into my new skin—and he performs some sort of obscure spell that forces me out of my sphinx form and trusses me up like a goose to be roasted. He starts yelling at me like it was somehow all _my_ fault. Can't hurt other students. Blah, blah, blah. What about _me_? He obviously didn't give a flying fuck about me having been tortured to the point of making a last-resort Animagus shift—"

Severus huffed, grooming his wing obsessively by chewing on it for a while. "He obliviated them all. He obliviated Minerva so she wouldn't remember teaching me. He obliviated me so I wouldn't remember I was even an Animagus. The next day it happened all over again, only Lily was there, and I—completely lost it on her. You know the rest."

Hermione slumped. "I'm sorry."

"Wasn't your fault, Hermione," Snape replied with a deep sigh. "I accomplished that entire exercise in stupidity all on my own. Thing is, had they remembered that I was a sphinx, they probably wouldn't have done it. The entire sodding mess would never have happened at all. Or, maybe it would have later—at least the final blow-up with Lily—I don't know. That's just it. All I know is what happened."

"So much for Gryffindor honour and chivalry," Hermione mumbled.

"Well, if that was the only requirement to be a Gryffindor, you'd have ended up eating at a _much_ smaller table," Severus mused.

Hermione snorted, blowing her unruly mane out of her face.

"Who made you the headdress and collar?" Snape asked, sphinxian curiosity reflecting in the interested twitch of his tail.

"Kingsley," Hermione said with a smile. "The collar was a family heirloom, but he put some magic into it to make it mine. It also has my identification and all that fun stuff that keeps me from being seen as an uncontrolled rampaging beast in the eyes of random Ministry employees."

"Kingsley, huh," Snape said, seeming to ponder this new bit of information. "He always seemed to be much less of a dunderhead than the rest of the gormless twits he had to associate with."

"He would agree," Hermione mused with a small chuckle.

Severus raised a brow. "I never got to know him very well. The war made such things… terribly complicated."

"Maybe you should," a deep voice greeted from the gaping hole in the shack. Kingsley stood silhouetted in the moonlight, his robes whipping out behind him as if he was accompanied by his own personal storm cloud.

"Kings!" Hermione exclaimed, jumping up and plowing into him with boundless enthusiasm. Paws, claws, and tawny hide pounced on the wizard, toppling him over as she shoved her head into his chest.

"Oof! Sphinx attack! Help!" he gasped, wrestling her playfully.

Severus watched in fascination as the much larger sphinx allowed herself to be wrestled and pinned. It was like watching a small siamese kitten trying to tackle a smilodon, yet the smilodon was allowing the kitten to win.

"Blimey, Hermione, did you get stronger overnight?" Kingsley sputtered as she groomed the side of his head, knocking off his hat. "Arrrr—enough! Before I lose the skin on my head."

Hermione purred loudly, placing a paw on Kingsley and pinning him down possessively. Snape felt a pang of something rising inside him that he couldn't quite place. The giant sphinx—and had he been anything less than an equally gargantuan specimen of the species—playfully gnawed on Kingsley as though he was her favourite and most treasured catnip mouse.

"Oi," Kingsley grunted, shoving her off of himself as he defended his face from the onslaught of sphinxy affection. "I have news to report that requires I have use of my face."

Hermione lay her head on his lap and looked up at him with her big amber-brown eyes, looking quite mournful about being interrupted.

"Agh, not the eyes!" He covered her eyes with his sash.

Hermione's giant paws twitched, but she remained still with only her tail tip flicking back and forth.

Kingsley sighed, rubbing Hermione on the ears. "What am I going to do with you, riddlesome beast?"

Hermione purred happily.

"One, all of the resident ley lines decided to go on walk-about from Hogwarts," Kingsley reported. "I'm suspecting that's your fault."

Hermione's giant paw thumped against Kingsley's dark face, gently batting at it.

"Second, Mr Ronald Weasley apparently had some sort of arrangement with former Headmaster Dumbledore—his job was to keep you on task and continuing to assist Mr Potter in every way possible. In exchange for his efforts, you, Hermione, were bespelled by the headmaster in such a way that you would remain unable to hold a grudge against Weasley no matter what he did, provided he touch you at least once every three months." Kingsley looked thoroughly disgusted. "It would refresh the spell Dumbledore cast on your beaded bag, and you would instantly forgive him anew."

Hermione grew very still—even her breathing seemed to have stopped. Her tail froze in place as she slowly digested that rather appalling piece of information.

Energy crackled around them as the ley lines reflected what Hermione's stillness did not, arching and scorching to reflect the rage simmering within her, as they fluxed in and out of manifestation.

"What," Hermione began, her voice low and controlled. "What was his reward?"

Kingsley flinched. "You, Hermione, but it didn't quite work out the way they planned. You warded off your parents' cottage, put it under Fidelius and then made it Unplottable to boot. You came to work, never seeing him. And as it got closer and closer to the three month deadline, he became more and more desperate to gain access to you."

"He _hates_ me," Hermione hissed. "Whyever would he want me as a reward?"

Severus growled lowly, showing his teeth. "Wealth, power, and fame. What all those lazy sods who cannot earn such things on their own forever search for, someone who can give it all to them with little to no effort on their own parts."

"We can't even sit in the same bloody _room_ without fighting!"

"But you always forgave him, didn't you?" Kingsley asked.

Hermione's eyes flicked to the side. "Yes."

"Even when you wanted to throttle him to death?" Severus added.

Hermione's expression darkened. "Yes. I lost my bag once. I thought I had left it in the classroom, so I ran back to get it. When I got back to the common room, Ron had it lying beside the chessboard as he was playing Harry. He said I must have dropped it on my way out. I picked it up from the floor and I _knew_ it was mine."

"Severus," Kingsley said. "Mr Potter already cleared your name due to the memories you gave him on the night you were believed to have died. So there are no pending charges against you to worry about. However, Mr Weasley seems either unwilling or unable to provide any further information. He hasn't said so, but I have a feeling there is much more to all this than meets the eye. Your death, or rather your un-death, may not have been part of the plan.

Severus' eyes seemed to go even darker than usual. "Minerva was Obliviated by Dumbledore on a number occasions—namely to forget her mentoring relationship with me and anything she happened to see that would've been inconvenient to his purposes. Ironically, she would just offer to mentor me once more, and he'd have to Obliviate her yet again. I'm not quite sure why I can remember these things now—and why am I so bloody _hungry_?"

"Memory charms," Hermione answered quietly. "They don't work the same on us when we're in sphinx form. Some of that trickles down to our human side. They just make us… hungry. Or angry."

"I'm both."

"That too."

"Auror Savage would say you're 'hangry'," Kingsley commented with a snort of amusement.

Hermione's tail looped with pleasure. "I like new words… like asphinxiation. I would like to asphinxiate Ronald Bilius Weasley."

Kingsley coughed. "Minister for Magic here. Formerly head Auror. Please do not speak of murder in my presence... even if I _do_ happen to agree to a certain extent."

"If he doesn't answer my riddle, I am _allowed_ to eat him." Hermione pointed out.

"Do you really want to come out as a sphinx by having Rita Skeeter report that you _ate_ Mr Weasley, with or without fava beans and a nice Chianti?"

Hermione drooped. "Point."

"He would give you food poisoning and clog your arteries with unhealthy amounts of bad cholesterol," Severus said, licking his fangs thoughtfully. "The very thought of consuming the likes of him utterly ruins my appetite."

Severus grumped, sitting as his swished in irritation. "But I am _still_ hungry."

"Unfortunately, I cannot let you leave," Kingsley said.

Hermione and Severus gave him an odd look.

"You seem to have forgotten that you have around ten wayward ley lines arching around this poor shack thanks to your combined presences."

"Oh, that," Hermione said with relief. "Wait, how many ley lines did Hogwarts originally have?"

"Five," Kingsley said after a moment, doing a quick mental tally. "One for each tower and one through the heart of the school."

Hermione pondered. "Six at least—I remember getting kind of a fuzzy feeling from _below_ Hogwarts, too."

Kingsley rubbed his bald head with his hand. "Perhaps, after all of the people have left the victory celebration, we can go visit with Headmistress McGonagall. Minerva has a very level head, and I don't think she'd ever intentionally hold anything back from us. Maybe she has a clue as to where we should go on from here—"

"Albus tampered with her mind the most," Severus pointed out.

"But maybe… he got careless. Too casual. If it did it as often as you are suggesting, he might have made a mistake at some point. I've seen it time and time again, in even among the most practiced of wizards and witches. Aurors have to be particularly careful that they don't develop certain habits."

"Hn," Severus murmured thoughtfully. "You may just be right, Kingsley. Albus was very much a creature of habit. Sometimes too much so for his own good.

"I wasn't made Head Auror just for my pretty face," Kingsley mused. "Some would argue that Scrimgeour had an even prettier one—swaying the masses to his impossible cover-up. It took guts to do what he did. Guts and fear. In the end, neither of those saved him. The dance of politics is not my style. I much prefer a good old-fashioned duel."

Severus snorted. "And how many people in the Ministry would be left by the end of the day?"

"I suppose it would depend on how many I chose to send down to fetch something from a certain vault in the Department of Mysteries without a valid permission parchment."

Hermione gasped. "You _wouldn't_!"

Kingsley winked at her.

Hermione sat on her tail, which Severus was beginning to realise was a nervous habit, like snapping at one's tails. He could almost hear the gears turning in her head, and he imagined she was attempting to add up how many people she had eaten in the line of duty—never once thinking they might have been sent her way on purpose.

"Kingsley may tease, Miss Gr—Hermione," Severus said, correcting himself in his awkward state of being caught between old and new memories, "but he would never deliberately send someone your way to have you dispose of them. He was always a far more of a direct sort than that."

Hermione, seemingly realising that he was easily guessing her thoughts, blushed with embarrassment and covered her face almost coyly with one huge paw.

Severus flushed and turned away, suddenly very attracted to that rather fetching visual. "I hear the Egyptian headdress is _your_ doing, Kingsley?"

"Hrm, yes," Shacklebolt answered. "Why, would you like one too? It can be arranged, and it does come with a rather nice job, benefits, paid holidays to die for, and permission to eat random idiots in the line of duty."

Severus felt his tufted ears perk forward, betraying his thoughts on that offer without his express permission.

"He also pays half your salary in rare tomes and scrolls," Hermione purred.

"You've got yourself a sphinx," Severus agreed instantly, unable to restrain himself. Self-control be damned when his dream job just walked right up and bit him right on his rather beakish nose.

"Damn, and I had to follow Hermione around for an entire _week_ ," Kingsley said, pouting.

Hermione rolled over, exposing her vulnerable belly, and Kingsley automatically found himself rubbing it.

"You _do_ realise that your working relationship with two magical beasts is not normal, yes?" Severus arched a brow at Kingsley.

"Normal be damned," Kingsley laughed. "I much prefer odd as long as it works. As your very first job duty, Severus, I order you and Hermione to fix this house—preferably before it collapses on top of us all."

Severus' ears flicked as he listened to the ominous creaking sounds coming from the battered walls. Then he sighed. "As you wish, Kingsley."

"Can we repaint it too?" Hermione asked, interested.

"I refuse to paint anything in pastels."

Hermione made a scrunched-up disgusted face at him for that. "Do I _really_ look like a pastels kind of witch to you?"

Severus stared her over, nostrils flaring, and then he turned away abruptly. "Ahem. Just making sure."

"Also, Severus," Kingsley added. "Be sure you don't come to meet the Headmistress looking like _that_. I'd rather not see the poor witch having to come to terms with your being alive and you being a greater androsphinx at the same time."

Severus stared at his paws and thought for a moment. "You may have a point. Kingsley, how are you taking this so well, when even I'm having a hard time with it all?"

"I've been working for the last two years with Hermione on an official level," Kingsley replied with a smile. "More if you count the war. Let's just say that I'm more familiar with the sphinxian character than most wizards. I'm even getting applications from a few other Countries due to my rather outstanding reputation to take care of my magical beast Animagi."

Severus twitched, trying not to feel jealous of Kingsley's rubbing of Hermione's tawny underbelly, though he wasn't sure what he was truly jealous of—having his belly rubbed or being the one to rub the other sphinx's belly.

Hermione mrowled, kicking out her legs in pure pleasure at Kingsley's attentions.

"Remember," Kingsley reminded, "I don't want to see either of you at Hogwarts until all the guests have left. The party is still going on, despite all the drama earlier, but we don't really want a coming out explosion. Most people don't even realise that sphinxes really do exist or, if the they do, they think they all spontaneously combust should they stray outside of Egypt. Also, I'd rather you-oh, hey, look at this." Kingsley pulled a scroll out from his robes. "Huh. Auror Savage said it was silly of me to carry around a job contract everywhere in the case I find someone to hire, but I rather think he owes me dinner for this one."

Severus stared at the job offer and contract, his eyes widening as he read over all the details. "Kingsley, you carry this thing around with you everywhere?"

Kingsley shrugged. "I knew that if Hermione kept being Hermione, eventually she would lead us to another recruit worthy of pouncing on immediately. Proudfoot thought it would probably be another dragon. Savage thought it would be chimaera, and then there was me. Just smash your paw on the line there, Severus. If you choose to accept the offer, that is."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "What did you bet, Kingsley?"

Kingsley smiled. "I bet that the only one who could catch Hermione's eye would be tall, dark, and sphinxy."

Hermione flushed, covering her head with her paws in embarrassment.

Severus smashed his paw down onto the magical parchment, accepting the job offer with relish.

Hermione looked between her splayed paws. "What did Augustine bet?"

"Ah," Kingsley said, chuckling. "He bet he would have to give up his post to a larger, sexier dragon. He'll be doing the wee witches and wizards tours of the Ministry for the entire month since he lost the bet."

An expression that suggested true sympathy swiftly passed across Snape's usually impassive face.

Hermione, however, looked somewhat abashed.

Kingsley gave them both a wink. "I'll send your Usekh and Nemes by owl or elf. Do _try_ not to eat them."

Severus huffed. "I do, in fact, have a certain measure of control, Shacklebolt."

"Oh?" Kingsley replied, grinning unrepentantly at his newest recruit. "We'll see who wins the betting pool on that one come morning."

Severus raised a questioning eyebrow but the former senior Auror turned Minister for Magic just chuckled knowingly as Hermione flushed a rather flattering shade of Gryffindor.

Kingsley, who somehow managed to make a certain former headmaster's famous twinkle seem far less sincere, favoured the pair with a courtly bow and spin of the hand, and then he vanished like a spectre through the demolished rubble of the crumbling wall.

"What did he mean by that don't eat the owl bit? Who would do something like that?" Severus huffed irritably.

Hermione chose that moment to stare fixedly out of the hole in the wall.

"Hermione?"

"I might have done something like that. It'd been a terribly long night and I really needed a good sleep. Fortunately, I only managed to snag a few tail feathers because it was an elf owl. Quite tiny and extremely fast. It clung to my curtain rod for hours, trembling, and refused to come back down."

"I suppose we should get to work on this poor old shack," Hermione mused. In a blur of movement she was human again, looking strangely small and vulnerable in comparison to her much larger sphinx-self. She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed them as if she was chilled.

Suddenly, Severus was at her side, wrapping his heavy robes around her to fend off the cold, shedding his sphinx form as easily as if he'd been doing it all his life.

Hermione turned and looked up at him, her brown eyes darting from his warm black eyes to his aquiline nose and back.

He pressed his hand to her soft cheek, losing himself in her almost shy amber-brown gaze. "I'm sorry I could not protect you," he said.

"It was hardly for lack of trying, Severus," she replied sadly.

Severus gave her a pained look.

"Look at the bright side, Severus," Hermione suggested. "There are no more obstacles before you other than whichever ones you choose to give yourself. No more evil Dark Lord. No more so-called 'Leader of the Light' pontificating from atop his golden throne. No more teacher and student relationship. Just life." Hermione closed her eyes and turned away. "But perhaps, you need a bit of time to see that you can finally do whatever you choose to do with the rest of your life. You don't need to worry about me anymore."

Snape crushed her tightly against him, making a soft, strangled cry. "There was _never_ anyone but you, Hermione. Even when I was the master and you my apprentice—you were _always_ special, so very important to me. One day, I finally realised that you were a lovely, full-grown witch, and I was a fool to dream that there could be a possibility of anything more between us."

Hermione scoffed. "I think too many people are convinced that the only ones worth anything are the ones who parade themselves around like that pretentious arsehole, Lockhart. I could still kick myself for that year. Don't be so bloody _thick_ , Severus."

Snape flinched. "You can't tell me that you don't have an entire fleet of wizards desperately trying to win your hand."

"Oh, I do," Hermione replied, curling her lip with unmistakable disgust. "All of them so very desperate to marry the Muggleborn heroine of the Wizarding war. None of them can even turn a intelligent phrase let alone answer one of my riddles. Most of them would rather sit on a book than read it, and the rest of them want something I cannot give. Hell, even Augustine gave it a shot, but ended up falling head over heels with Lavender Brown, of all people. And before you give me that look, she's changed rather a lot since Fenrir attacked her during the final battle and left her for dead. She has some terrible scars, but one might actually call her a kind and thoughtful person these days."

Snape gave her a patently disbelieving eyebrow lift.

Hermione shook her head and sighed heavily. "Lots of people started to pair up right after the war. The Ministry was even considering passing a marriage law to 'Build up our numbers and recoup some of our losses after the war, blah blah blah'. It didn't pass, thank Merlin. Kingsley got all up in their faces, telling them that things like forcing people to do things against their will is what got us all into this sodding mess in the first place. He said it much more… fluently and articulately than I ever could. He has quite the silver tongue, despite what he might tell you. I most definitely do _not_."

"Rrrr," Severus growled. "I could easily eat an entire hippogriff with a double portion of chips on the side. Ugh. I haven't a decent plate of chips in _ages_. Death Eater spies never get to eat good chips when the very best chippies are always Muggle establishments."

"You know, despite my wanting to gnaw on a certain unlamented ex-Headmaster, he did do you _one_ favour. I imagine that if Voldemort had ever known he had a greater androsphinx at his beck and call, he would have used you as a weapon of pure terror and murder instead of an agent of his will via more subtle means." She waved her wand and began repairing the rather battered walls. "And, had he done so, we probably would have ended up killing each other."

Snape paled. "I… concede to your point." He pulled out his wand, seemingly surprised to see it there, and began to help her rebuild and repair the shack once more. He made a disgusted sound. "This wallpaper has to go. You can tell Albus had his hand in this place. Who plasters their walls with lemon print?"

"Yellow was a common colour for kitchens in Muggle households," Hermione replied. "I was happy my parents preferred—" she trailed off.

"Preferred," Snape prodded.

"Nothing," Hermione said, evading.

"Hermione," he said, not letting go. His ears had turned pointed, the tufted ears twitching with curiosity.

The corners of Hermione's mouth tugged at her expression as her face flushed slightly.

"Mum and dad were painting the kitchen emerald green, and I got into the paint and made all these little silver unicorns all over it," Hermione said in a gush.

"You _Slytherined_ your parents' kitchen?"

"Leave me alone," Hermione hissed, slumping with embarrassment as he chuckled quietly, imagining the Grangers' expressions upon discovering their young daughter's creative improvement to their home decor.

Snape touched her chin, pulling it around. "I don't think I ever plan on doing that again."

Hermione gave him a rather desperate look, her eyes filled with both hope and disbelief.

"I have enough jaded mistrust of this world, Hermione," Severus whispered. "More than enough for both of us. I do not wish to see such things in your eyes. Not when you look at me."

Hermione trembled. "I _missed_ you. I didn't even know it was you I was missing. I couldn't remember. He stole it all away and left me with loneliness. I hungered for something I couldn't place, no matter how hard I tried. I'd roam the halls, endlessly searching for something I couldn't name. Later, on the run—" Hermione closed her eyes. "My parents were dead. I had this obsession with Ron. I could have killed him for leaving us out there in the woods, accusing Harry and me of fornicating in the woods. Even then, it was an empty obsession. It was as if a part of me knew I would always be alone."

Hermione's face darkened. "Harry had grabbed my wand—kept me from hexing him. I almost shifted. I almost… riddled him. I would have eaten him, right there in front of Harry."

Hermione's lips pursed into a flat line. "He touched me, and I forgave him." She pulled out her beaded bag and threw it across the room. "He was our headmaster! We trusted him! He was supposed to _protect_ us!" Her fangs flashed despite her human form.

"He stole away my hope. He took from me the one thing that made me feel safe after my parents—" Hermione said, her voice trembling. "There were times out there when I was sure that I wouldn't survive the war, and I didn't even _care_. I didn't care because no one would be waiting for me at the end. Who could care for some know-it-all, swotty little Mu—"

Her despair was cut off by the press of lips against hers as a swirl of dark fabric enfolded her. At first, she froze, but as Severus pulled away, his eyes saddened, she wove her hands into his mane of black hair and pulled his head back down.

Severus gave a soft groan, yielding to her rather exploratory and curious tongue, his hands pressing against the cool skin of her back as they found their way under her robes and drew her close to him. There was something rising within him—need, possession, and hunger—and he knew he had never wanted nothing more than he wanted _this_ witch.

They staggered back into the newly-repaired settee, a little breathless.

Snape pulled away from her with agonising slowness. "Hermione—"

"Don't stop, Severus," she replied, her amber eyes glistening as she touched his cheeks with her palms. "Please."

"Are you su— _Mphgh!_ "

Hermione's kiss silenced him, and he took it for the answer he needed. He eagerly explored her mouth, then trailed his swollen lips down her neck, gently nibbling at her skin with his teeth. As he neared her delicate, sensitive ears, he flicked his tongue out, and Hermione gasped, clawing at his back as she instantly arched against him. He growled as she tugged free her blouse, inviting him in for a closer look.

He freed her breasts from their silken confines and covered one with his mouth, his hand exploring the other one as he did so. Hermione's eyes fluttered as she moaned.

"Severus," she breathed his name, her hands rubbing his scalp as he pleasured her. Her delicate fingers rubbed his ears, causing him to loose a deep, guttural growl.

Hermione mewled in response, needfully answering all his questions with one resonating sound of pure desire. Whatever thoughts he might have had—unworthiness or lack of personal comeliness—all them went fleeing as he was filled with an undeniable, aching need.

"I don't care what you say, Potter," a voice hissed as a scraping of a door being opened came from a room over. "That bloody map of yours is wrong. There is no way Severus would be alive after what you told me happened, and there is no way that—Merlin's bloody man-tits, ** _SEVERUS?!_** "

" ** _Hermione?_** " Harry squeaked with shock.

Severus snarled, using one movement to cover Hermione with his robes as he stood between them. His black eyes blazed with anger at being interrupted in his quest to claim his witch. " _Potter_ ," he hissed. " _Draco_. Don't the two of you have anything better to do than of sticking your noses where they don't belong?"

Upon hearing the unmistakable venom in the older man's voice, both young wizards instantly paled and in their haste to scramble out of the shack, slammed headlong into each other. Both fell to the floor, knocked out cold.

Hermione peeked out from under Severus' dark robes, her face flushed with embarrassment.

"I find myself feeling rather hungry again," Severus growled, licking his teeth with a flattened, feline tongue.

"You can't eat them!" Hermione protested.

"Perhaps an ankle between them? They both have one to spare," Severus reasoned. "We could get a side of chips and make a meal of it."

"Think of all the paperwork!" Hermione insisted.

Severus narrowed his eyes, looking from the two unconscious wizards back to Hermione.

 _Pop!_

A house-elf dressed in Kingsley's rather distinctive brand of colourful fashion arrived carrying a tray filled with an enormous beef roast, an equally large smoked turkey, and a wide assortment of sides, accompanied by a bottle or three of an exceptional red wine. "Master Kingsley said to bring you foods," the elf announced. "He asks yous to please not eat the good townsfolk of Hogsmeade."

Severus growled, looking at the two unconscious wizards lying on the floor with a disdainfully curled lip. "Minerva was right… you _do_ have quite a penchant for sheer, dumb luck, Potter. Your ankle may live. For now."


	2. Chapter Two: A Sphinx For Your Thoughts

**A/N:** This story was meant to be a one shot, but it escaped. I had to break it up into smaller 20k word chapters. Heh. Smaller 20k chapters. Sigh. Why can't I be normal and publish 2k chapters and think that is an accomplishment? WHY?! There are 3 chapters total, and this story is done. Next chapter ( the conclusion) will be published tomorrow. (AND THERE SHALL BE SPHINXLETS!)

 **Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, and Flyby Commander Sheperd**

 **Chapter Two: A Sphinx For Your Thoughts**

* * *

Whatever ardeur they may have had disappeared with the arrival of the two hapless Aurors. Hermione, utterly mortified, redressed herself with surprising speed. She refused to give up Severus' outer robe, however, hunkering down under it like a favourite handmade quilt.

"I _would_ like that back, you know," Snape muttered.

"Mine now," Hermione responded, happily snuggling further into the warm black robe.

One brow raised high into his hair. "I did not—you did not—agh. I find it hard to believe that anyone would enjoy… _snuggling_ into anything of mine."

"Their loss," Hermione replied with a soft sigh. Then, in a whisper, she added, "I'd really rather snuggle into _you_."

Snape's pupils immediately dilated and he dug his fingers into his palms, trying to quell a sudden rise of desire. Instead, he poured a liberal amount gravy over Hermione's turkey and tried his hardest to think of England.

"Harry always did have the absolute _worst_ timing," Hermione mused, enjoying the good food. "Sometimes, though, I think it's for the best. He interrupted Ronald a few times, much as he did tonight. Perhaps, I should thank him for that kind service."

"You and—" Snape trailed off. Conflicting emotions seemed to swim across his face.

"Another thing I can "thank" the old Headmaster for," Hermione growled, poking at her food a few times before eating it.

"I had always assumed that you would find some kind connection out there—life, love, and happiness. Far away from Hogwarts. Farther even than myself. I had accepted that it would happen, even presumed that it should." Snape rubbed his nose with his hand. "I did—wish for you to find true happiness."

"But not with you." Hermione's eyes turned downward, saddened.

"It did not seem likely to ever be, Hermione," Snape replied, his dark eyes shadowed by his long black hair. "Even without Albus' tampering, I believed that someone younger and much more deserving would find you and make you happy."

Hermione just shook her head. "Someone younger wouldn't work. Someone younger wouldn't be you. If I had been meant to be with anyone else, I would have seen at least some hint of that, and I didn't. Even under a bloody spell from Dumbledore—I never felt right about anyone else. Only now, I know why. Now, I realise it was because none of them were _you_."

Severus gently touched her chin, lifting it up so he could look upon her face. His dark eyes softened as he took her in. "You were always like a dream, just out of reach."

"I'm here. Now." Hermione touched his cheek and brushed the hair away from his face. "And you're here. Like a second chance I never knew I needed. I'm not going anywhere, Severus."

Severus growled softly. In a swift motion he had her caged within his arms as his mouth descended upon hers. She groaned into his mouth, her hands snaking around his neck, pulling him closer. They kissed hungrily, desperately, sinking into each other's skin as though they might merge together completely through simple proximity.

Soft groans signalled Harry and Draco's mutual return to consciousness, and Severus froze, emitting a low, rumbling growl of frustration that sounded a little too unearthly to be strictly human.

Hermione, closing her eyes in frustration as well, drew Snape's head down to kiss his forehead before pushing him off, surrendering his outer robe to him with a wistful sigh.

"Agh, get off me, mate," Harry's voice groaned.

"Get off _me_ ," Draco responded a bit peevishly. "It's _your_ leg on _my_ neck."

"Oh, sorry."

"Now I _know_ this place is haunted. There is no _way_ what I thought I saw was real." Draco's voice sounded rather weary.

"If you saw the same thing I thought I saw—"

"Wait, what did _**YOU**_ see?"

"My best friend snogging our old Potions professor."

"We've been spending _way_ too many hours together, Scarhead," Draco muttered. "Now we're starting to share delusions. Bad enough that our friends think we're nutters for being partners as it is. At least my father is hiding away somewhere in Switzerland and can't give me any grief over it."

"Come on, I'm starving, and I smell food like some sort of banquet is going on here. Where's my map?" Harry's voice muttered.

"That thing is just a useless piece of parchment," Draco informed him with a roll of his eyes. "Seriously, mate, get it together, would you?"

"This map is never wrong," Harry insisted.

"Until it _is_."

"No—it's _never_ wrong! I mean it!"

"Because you were there when it was made, right?"

"Yes! I mean, no. I wasn't there, but—will you just _trust_ me?"

"Because you simply ooze trust," Draco quipped.

"Just help me up," Harry groused.

"Fine, just don't complain I never gave you anything," Draco grunted.

"If you are done yammering on like an old married couple, perhaps you could leave so we could finish our meal and conversation," a smooth baritone voice rumbled, causing both Aurors to gape and stare.

"Y—you're not real!" Draco stammered.

"I saw you die!" Harry added.

"Yes, and thank you so much for leaving me as I bled out and saving me from tedious Gryffindor displays of awkward sentimentality," Snape said, eyes narrowing.

" _ **You left Severus to die?**_ " Draco yelled at Harry.

"He was bleeding out! You heard him. He told me to take the memories and go!"

"So you just went?!"

"Sorry, I was kind of busy trying to save the world!"

"Oh, and so you just forget the people who made it possible?"

"He told me to go!"

"And you always listened to him before, ya?" Draco hissed.

"You tried to kill Dumbledore!"

"To save my family!"

"Well, I wanted to save _**everyone's**_ family!"

" _ **Have to save him, no!"**_ Hermione cried, clutching her head. " _ **Can't leave, no! No! Let me go! Must be something—something! Let go! Let go!"**_

Both Aurors stopped bickering as Hermione moaned in pain, clutching her head as another surge of forgotten memories forced their way to the surface.

Snape moved to cradle Hermione, pulling her against him as she shook.

" _ **Don't leave him here to die!"**_ Hermione moaned.

"Hermione," Snape said, touching the side of her face. "I'm not dead. I'm not."

Hermione's face twisted in anguish.

"Potter, tell me what happened," Snape snapped at him. "From the very moment you left."

Harry shook his head sharply. "I—I, er—"

" _ **NOW, Potter!"**_

"You told us to go, and Ron said we had to go before the Death Eaters came back," Harry blurted. "So we ran, but Hermione tried to stay, digging through that bag of hers—trying to staunch the bleeding. We had to go. Voldemort was in our heads. I had to get to the pensieve. Hermione stayed, trying to do something, anything, crying that you were our professor and that we couldn't just leave you there like that—not matter what a bastard you were to us. Ron got angry, and he grabbed her by the arm. He—"

Harry trailed off, his eyes glazing over slightly. "He touched her and, she—instantly stopped resisting."

Snape snarled, turning his attention back to Hermione, his hands pressed against Hermione's face. "I'm here," he insisted. "Hermione, listen to me. I _didn't_ die."

Hermione stared up at him. "Dead. I let you _die_." She quivered, her body shaking miserably.

"No, Hermione," Snape soothed her, stroking her hair gently. "You pushed me into the leys. You preserved me—healed me."

"What?" Hermione's eyes glistened as she stared up at him.

"You saved me, Hermione," Severus insisted. "Even with all the spells that were used against you, you called upon the leys and they responded to your call. They carried me in their embrace, but I didn't know what happened. I thought I had died. I thought myself a ghost. Until you came here, touched you, and— _remembered_."

Snape brushed her temples with his thumbs. "Now, _you_ must remember, love. Let the memories come. I am here. Do not let that silver-haired bastard win."

"I fear, Miss Granger, that by the time you even try to remember anything, I will long be gone. Harry will have completed his task, saved the world, and I—I will be content." Hermione whispered the words, her voice changed, different.

"What's wrong with her?" Harry asked.

"The memories," Snape answered.

"The return of memories can be seriously excruciating," Draco explained, holding Harry back by the shoulder. "Auror Proudfoot took me on a case where the entire family had been driven insane—forcefully Obliviated and then forced to remember everything they'd lost. Without an anchor, it's every bit as painful as the Cruciatus. Even when not forced, depending on how traumatising the original memory was, multiply it and then put a brick behind it and imagine what that would feel like smashing into your head."

"How do you know this, Malfoy?" Harry asked.

"Proudfoot Obliviated me, with my permission, of a small memory. It was just me having breakfast that morning. Then he released it. It was way worse than a firewhisky hangover. Father says that's the reason the healers can't help people like the Longbottoms. Just remembering everything could kill them. And that memory Proudfoot took—that was just a single breakfast, mate. Breakfast isn't even a trauma."

"It is at the Burrow," Harry muttered half under his breath.

Draco raised a brow and stumbled over to Hermione's side, gently putting his hands on her arm. "Help me anchor her, Potter, before the pain drives her mad."

"Anchor—I've never," Harry stammered. "I have no idea _how!_ "

"Think of something positive—a memory your shared," Draco ordered. "Something positive or something really strong."

"What the hell are you using then?" Harry demanded.

"The day she punched me in the face."

"How is that bloody positive?"

"It was positive for _HER_ ," Draco snapped, "and I was involved."

Harry made an odd face, awkwardly touching Hermione.

"She's your friend, not a sodding viper, Potter!" Draco hissed. "Touch her! I swear they call the lot of you a bunch of bleeding heart Gryffindors but you just sit there and forget that touch is easiest say to show you care. "Damn it, Potter, _**TOUCH HER!**_ "

Harry carefully placed his hands on Hermione's arm and a strange kind of grimace crossed his face as he frantically tried to think of something, anything, that might work.

Magic arced between them, and they were all sucked into a vortex of vivid memories.

* * *

"I'm sorry Miss Granger, I'm afraid I can't have you thinking about anything other than supporting your best friend, Harry. That's the way it should be. That's the way it needs to be. That's the way it _will_ be."

* * *

"Happy birthday, sweetie."

A light kiss on the forehead. Twelve pink candles.

"I suppose she'll be asking for the keys to the car pretty soon," Mr Granger fussed.

"Psh, hush your mouth, love," Mrs Granger said, slapping her husband upside the head with a chuckle.

" _Oi! Oi! Abuse!_ "

Laughter and love—

Then came an image of a small cemetery and a twin grave. The skies above were dark with low, swollen clouds and a heavy snow was falling. A fine coat of frost and ice was gathering on the gravestones. Two stones sat side by side on the headstone—small, round pebbles from a distant shore.

Hermione stood there alone, her head bowed as if in prayer.

In the distance, Ron and Harry were clearly arguing with each other about something, making wild gestures at each other.

"I love you," Hermione whispered, placing one more stone on the headstone. "I miss you so much."

* * *

Strong arms surrounded her. Warm black woollen robes protected her from the darkness.

 _Grief._

 _Pain._

 _Loneliness._

"Just cry," a low voice rumbled.

A hand stroked her hair. The scent was overwhelming and yet so soothing—earth and herbs.

Gone. They were gone.

Agony and grief—a hole in the heart of her.

She sobbed. She sobbed until she could barely breathe, her diaphragm hiccuping as she cried. She clung to that all-encompassing darkness. She beat on it. She wailed, and she whimpered. She cried until there was nothing left inside begging to be purged.

She awoke and silently grabbed her books for class and pulled it tightly against her like a shield. With a heavy sigh, she opened it up, sat next to the looming shadow of black cloth, leaned up against it and studied.

She said nothing.

Dark black eyes softened as he wrapped his arm around her.

They said nothing together.

* * *

 _ **SMACK!**_

Pain like validation surged through her as she socked Malfoy square in the face.

Rage was in her blood. Fury was her spear.

It felt… _good_.

* * *

Harry shared a dance with her after Ron stormed off and left them behind—it was an awkward thing but sorely needed. They said nothing, but they let the music guide their clumsy steps. Harry wasn't quite sure how to touch her. She could see it in his eyes and the way he moved.

They danced anyway—joined in a desperate need for some some sort of compassion and comfort in the midst of their quest to claim the scattered remnants of a Dark wizard's soul.

* * *

Draco pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand as he left for the night. "Good night, Granger. Say hello to Viktor for me."

"Night, Malfoy," Hermione answered absently. Then she looked up with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "I will, but we both know you really just want tickets to the Quidditch World Cup."

Draco gasped, pressing his fingers to his heart in an overly dramatic gesture. "You truly wound me, Granger."

"Yahuh," Hermione snickered. Then she pulled out two pieces of printed parchment and waved them at Draco with a small grin.

Draco's eyes went comically wide.

She handed it to him, shaking her head with amusement. "Boys and their sports. Do _try_ to not to get so hammered that you leave your pretty arse behind in a bad splinching acci- _ **MPH!**_ "

Draco planted a swift kiss directly on her mouth. "I really owe you one," he cooed with his eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning.

"Just keep Harry from killing himself while running in where angels fear to tread, hrm?" Hermione replied.

"Feh," Draco replied. "He's wearing his big boy Auror britches now."

Hermione arched a brow. "Do try, yes?"

Draco swirled his hand and bowed. "Your wish is my command, milady."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Go, have fun. Remember, if Ginny finds out I gave you the tickets, I _will_ murder you, Malfoy."

Draco gasped. "I'm Slytherin, Granger. I value my own life above all others. Surely you would know this by now."

Hermione snorted. "I'm counting on it, ferret."

Draco gave her a cheeky wink and a lopsided grin and then Disapparated.

* * *

"So what's _really_ bothering you?" Hermione asked, poking Ginny in the center of her head. "And don't give me that well-practiced drivel you think even works on your mother."

Ginevra smiled, sipping her tea. "How is it that I can fool my own mother but not you?"

"I'm obviously a highly-trained agent having been apprenticed to a true master."

Ginevra coughed, choking on her tea. "Hermione! That's not funny."

"Oh? Was it supposed to be?"

Ginny sighed, shaking her head. "I thought it was enough, ya know? The gentle awkward touches. The occasional snogging session. At first there were all the glamorous parties and social events, rubbing shoulders with all these other famous people. Oh, how I lived for them. But Harry doesn't like them. He never did."

Hermione set down her teacup. "Have you told him any of this, Ginny?"

Ginny shook her head. "I _can't_ , Hermione. I might be—"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Ginny—"

"It _could_ be his! If it's," Ginny mumbled, trailing off.

"Ginny, this isn't because your mum is pressuring you to marry, is it?" Hermione asked.

"Y—no!" Ginny protested.

"You're a horrible liar, Gin" Hermione said.

"You can't say anything to him!"

"Gin—"

"You _can't!_ Please! Swear it, Hermione! Swear on your magic that you won't ever tell him!"

"I'm not going to lie to him, Ginny. You have to tell him."

Ginny grasped Hermione's hands tightly. "Please, Hermione. Don't say anything."

Hermione's eyes glazed over. She shook her head and stared at Ginevra. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Ginny patted her hand. "Nothing, Hermione. Could you pass the tea?"

* * *

The wind was fierce as it whipped across the lake, chilling all those unfortunate enough to be downwind of it to the bone. Hermione's teeth chattered slightly, even with multiple warming charms.

"Gryffindors," a low voice muttered. "Are you all so thick in the head that you cannot remember to dress appropriately in the middle of winter?"

A drape of heavy black wool covered her shoulders, and the owner pulled the hood over her head.

"Can't find my cloak," Hermione chattered, snuggling under the warm clock.

"What?"

"One of my shoes are missing too."

Professor Snape shook his head and made a disgusted sound. "And your friends? Nowhere to be found?"

"Quidditch practice."

"Oh, well, that _is_ a priority, of course."

Hermione shuffled closer, leaning closer to his warmth.

"Homework done?"

"Psh. Yes, master."

"Both sets?"

"Of course, master," she replied.

"Boiling point of mercury?"

"Three hundred and fifty six point seven Celsius."

"Energy circle diagram for warding a site from magical or Muggle?"

Hermione drew it in the air with her finger, letting it hang in the air in glowing runes.

"Change it for banning house-elves."

Hermione promptly altered the symbols.

"Difference between _Arnica montana_ and _Aconitum lycoctonum_?"

" _Arnica montana_ is false wolf's bane. Using it in a potion will cause itching and hives, with a fifty percent chance of explosive diarrhea. _Aconitum lycoctonum_ is northern wolfsbane, has a purple flower, six lobes or sometimes four, and has palmately lobed leaves. It can also prove fatal if you use too much."

"Did you fall asleep on top of the herbology encyclopedia again?"

Hermione flushed. "No."

"Try not to spew facts straight from the textbook when a simple answer will do."

"Yes, master."

Snape sighed. He pulled out something from his robes and casually placed it in her lap.

"What is this?"

"Now, the last time I gave you something, you complained I hadn't bothered to wrap it. Now, you ask me what it is without even bothering to unwrap it. Tell me, Miss Granger, which way do you prefer?"

Hermione slowly beat her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry, I just—I'm not used to people giving me things."

"Good thing I am not a people."

Hermione laughed, smiling. "Yeah. Good thing." She fussed with the elegant silver ribbon on the box and lifted off the lid. She gasped, lifting a small jewel set in a delicate wreath of tiny laurel leaves: her mastery insignia. One tiny emerald was set multiple rings around the center. "It's so beautiful."

"You earned it. You are your own master now."

"Mrrrowl!" Crookshanks hopped into Snape's lap and purred, kneading his lap before curling up and making himself quite at home.

"Hah! I _knew_ he liked you!" Hermione chuckled.

"Gah, ginger cat fur all over my nice, clean robes." Snape curled his lip slightly, narrowing his eyes at the wholly unrepentant feline offender.

Hermione looked at the laurel and frowned in confusion. "How do I wear it? There is no pin or anything."

"I—" Snape made an odd face. "I would have to set it. There is a special place," he said, tugging down his collar to expose a gem set just over his sternum.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Most masters know other masters on sight without needing any visual aid, but in circles where you are unknown, one often simply dresses with a low collar."

Hermione touched the laurel with clear reverence. She shyly handed him the laurel, her fingertips just barely grazing against his skin.

Snape gently motioned for her to undo the topmost buttons of her blouse, and she did so, trusting him as he splayed his long fingers across her chest, set the gem and laurel between his fingers, and set his wand tip to it. There was a warm surge of magic as he spoke the incantation, and the insignia sank into her skin, becoming as one with her body.

Snape looked at her with a soft curve gracing his lips. "In a few months, you will be officially the age of majority, whatever that means to you. As the Wizarding world sees it—an adult, complete with adult problems, responsibilities, and stressors."

"As if the time-turner didn't already age me enough?" Hermione smiled ruefully at him. "What would they think—a old hag like myself gambolling around as a student much younger?"

"Hardly an old hag, Mi— _Master_ Granger."

Hermione looked up, flushing.

"Just between us, for now," Snape said grimly. "When all of this is said and done, you will be able to have your pick of jobs from here to southern seas."

"You just want me to teach Potions so you can go terrorise the DADA students again." Hermione lay her head on his shoulder.

"Hn," he agreed. "You had better not be wrinkling my robes, witch."

Hermione harrumphed. "And what if I am?"

Snape's eyes slid sideways to look at her. "You're incorrigable."

"Pot meet cauldron," Hermione chimed. "Best teacher, after all."

"Hmph."

"Master?"

"Hrm?"

"Thank you for believing in me."

Snape's gaze softened. "Always."

* * *

"You're cheating!"

"I am not."

"Just because you're good at everything else doesn't mean you can come up here and be good at chess too, 'Mione! Why don't you go and pester Neville or something?"

* * *

"Ugh, I can't _believe_ him!" Hermione groaned, throwing up her hands in exasperation before snatching a chocolate cupcake from the platter and proceeding to demolish it with an almost ferocious intensity.

"Not too keen on seeing Ginny all lip-locked with Dean either."

Hermione sighed. "Aren't we quite a pair?"

Harry just shrugged. "I think we're both looking at the wrong people. Shouldn't be this hard, yeah? We shouldn't have to work so hard to get someone's attention if they really care."

"I don't even know why I care so much," Hermione confessed. "Here, with you, I'm like, yeah he's an arse. But then—when he's near me, I just, arrghhhh."

"You forgive him."

"Yeah, like a complete dunderhead." Hermione thunked her head onto the table repeatedly.

Harry looked at her rather strangely. "I dunno, Hermione. Sometimes I think you're too old for the rest of us. You just… get on better with people who are ten years older or something. Even when we were in first year, you were repairing my glasses without even realising how great that was. Don't hit me, but sometimes it's like I'm talking to my big sister or the mum I never had."

 _ **WHAP!**_

Hermione's hand slapped him upside the head with the palm of her hand.

"Ow!" Harry snorted and set his head down on the table. "You're just way more mature than the rest of us, alright? More focused. Most people our age just want to do as little as possible and have fun. You have fun too, but only when you've done as much as possible first. And Ron? Hell, I don't even know what you see him, 'Mione. You two fight like Crookshanks and Mrs Norris."

Hermione flushed and tangled her fingers in her hair. "I swear, I feel like I'm losing my mind, Harry. I want the whole dream, you know? Someone I can talk to, read with, be read to, say nothing but share company, share company and say everything—I want to see that special smile. I want to feel… special."

Harry touched her hand awkwardly, patting it. "You _are_ special, Hermione. One day, you'll find a proper bloke, and he'll be so great that you'll just know that Ron wasn't the one."

Hermione bonked her head into Harry's shoulder. "Thanks, Harry."

"Heh," Harry chuckled. "Anytime. Just—find someone who can speak fluent Latin, loves books and learning, and loves you all at the same time, yeah?"

Hermione laughed. "Can I tell you a secret?"

Harry perked. "Ooh?"

"No really, you _can't_ tell anyone, Harry."

"This isn't like… girly stuff is it? Because I'd totally run out that door screaming."

"No. Well, at least," Hermione boggled, "I don't really think so."

"Okay, go on."

"When I really need to get some sleep, I read my favourite stories and imagine Professor Snape reading it."

" _ **WHAT?!"**_

"Harry!"

"Why would you do that?"

Hermione flushed. "I really, really like his voice, alright?"

Harry's eye twitched. "Only you could like the nasty git's voice, Hermione. All he does it insult you with it."

Hermione frowned. "Not when I imagine it."

Harry sighed. "That's okay. I like to imagine the Quidditch scores being read by some witch from America. Mmmm. That accent."

"Harry!"

"Hey, you like—ugh, _his_ voice. I like Americans, okay?"

Hermione laid her head down on the table and let out a long sigh. "Fine."

A moment later, Hermione lifted her head and gave her best friend a knowing look. "You like listening to Katie Couric, don't you?"

Harry stuffed an entire chocolate frog in his mouth and tried to mumble around it.

"You're a horrible liar, Harry."

* * *

"Why did you have to teach Potter how to be an Animagus?" Draco huffed. "Now, every time he gets really stressed, he sprouts antlers like a sodding stag, and I have to get him knackered to the point of him spouting lovey-dovey poetry—to _**ME**_ , Granger—before they disappear."

Hermione snorted and sniffed, passing him a cup of tea.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You did it on purpose didn't you?"

"Purpose? What purpose would that be?"

"Oh, I dunno—payback maybe." Draco narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "This is because I proposed, isn't it?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, Draco," she replied, her rare use of his first name causing him to look up. "I know why you did it."

"I know it isn't the love you dream of—"

Hermione touched his hand. "Draco, it isn't that. I know what you are offering, and I respect what you are willing to give up for me. I really do. I just can't let you marry me to save me from life while sacrificing your own."

"Marrying you would hardly be settling, Granger."

Hermione smiled. "I appreciate that, but I know, in your heart, you are still looking for the one that makes you spout mindless drivel about flowers and makes you show up with champagne and fine chocolate—perhaps even with a rose clenched between your teeth."

"Psh," Draco snorted derisively. "As if."

Hermione grinned at him.

"Potter snores like the Hogwarts Express with a sinus cold. Why didn't you ever _tell_ me?" Draco shook his head. "I had to put a silencing charm on him while we were on a stakeout, just so he wouldn't end up giving our location away."

Hermione coughed, taking a sip of her tea.

"A year on the run in a tent between Harry and Ron, Malfoy," Hermione mused. "The Dark Lord aside, I might have smothered them both in their sleep."

"Not sure if I should thank you or curse you for not doing so," Draco replied. "Speaking of Weasel, he's been asking about you again. Demanding, really. Well, more like sticking his face up in mine and threatening to expose me as Death Eater if I don't tell him where you're living."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I do hope you told him where to stick it."

"Many times and with explicit detail, love," Draco said, "not that it helps any. 'No way that my 'Mione would ever be friends with a sodding Malfoy. I know you must've potioned her into liking you'."

Hermione choked on her tea. " _What_?"

"Apparently, I'm drugging you."

"I don't think giving me a pain potion for my headaches counts!"

Draco threw up his hands. "I dunno, Granger. He seems to think that life outside Hogwarts is just like it was. People don't change. People can't ever—make themselves better."

"Well, he's rather fucked now isn't he?" Hermione said darkly.

"Granger! Such language from a lady!" Draco said in mock offence.

Hermione sighed. "Sorry, the boy makes me curse… sometimes like a bloody sailor."

"Still getting those nasty headaches, love?"

Hermione nodded. "I don't know why, either. Sometimes, I'll see something or hear something, maybe even smell something, and I get this stabbing pain in my mind. Then, it's like a rush of molten lava. My mum used to have migraines and she said she'd have to lock herself away in a dark room and sleep it off, but I almost want to hit myself with a _Stupefy_ or maybe just bonk myself over the head with one of mum's old cast-iron pans to get a little relief."

Hermione hissed, clutching her head. "That potion isn't going to stir itself, Granger. Do you plan on willing it to boil with a mind full of frivolous thoughts?"

Draco frowned. He beckoned her over. "Come here a second, yeah?"

Hermione obeyed, wincing.

Draco splayed his fingers across her face, closing his eyes. He opened them after a minute. "I know you don't like healers poking around in your head, Hermione, but you really should have someone check you over. I've seen this kind of thing before. Memory returns—due to the spell weakening after a forced Obliviate or memory charm."

"I keep meaning to," Hermione said. "But every time I try, I get to Mungo's and panic."

"Tell you what, after we get your place here all settled, and I'm giving you a house-elf—don't you _**DARE**_ protest, witch, because you need one to help you take care of this place—I'll get one of my personal healers to come make a house call, alright?" He gave her a look of determination.

"Okay, fine," Hermione waved her hand. "Lately things have been getting really strange. I _almost_ remember things. I—sometimes spells, sometimes people, but then suddenly they're gone." She scratched her chest idly, almost habitually, her hands curving over her breastbone.

Draco's hand shot out to touch Hermione's wrist and pull it back. "Wait, what is that, Granger?"

"What?"

Draco had his wand out and he cast something, pressing it to her chest with a dire look on his face.

"Draco, what are you—?"

" _Finite Incantatem,_ " he hissed. He looked where his spell had found and countered a rather intricate hiding charm. "What the _**hell**_ , Granger?" Draco said, eyes wide with shock. "You were running around with an _abscondamus aboculis_ charm on you. That's seriously high level stuff."

"What? On _me_?" Hermione gasped, looking down.

"No, on that." Draco tapped the area just above her sternum.

Hermione squinted trying to look. Draco handed her hand mirror.

"Where did you—"

"I'm a Malfoy, Granger," Draco scoffed. "I always have a mirror, somewhere."

Hermione squinted into the mirror—a goblin silver wreath of tiny laurels surrounded a shining emerald where a magical glyph shimmered just under the surface. "What—"

"Blimey, Granger," Draco gasped. "You're a bloody Master!"

"I— _what_?" Hermione blinked dumbly.

"You can't fake those," Draco said, tapping it with his finger. "They are given from master to apprentice on the day they obtain their mastery."

"I don't—Draco I can't remember ever having a master."

Draco touched her hand. "Look, once we get your cottage here all safe and warded and we get the stupid Weasel off your back, we need to address this memory loss, yeah?"

Hermione flinched, a bit of fear lurking in her eyes.

"Hermione," Draco repeated.

Hermione nodded. "Okay. Just—be there for me, alright?"

Draco smiled. "I'm Slytherin, Hermione. I can't stand not knowing big secrets. Ravenclaws only think it's their lot in life."

Hermione shook her head. "Get used to being disappointed, Malfoy. My life is apparently a secret, even to me."

* * *

"No! No,no, nono, no, no!" Hermione wailed, dashing over to the lone hospital bed. She knelt by the bed as she touched Professor Snape's arm. "What have you _done_? What _happened_?"

Snape was still and silent. Blood trickled out from Snape's mouth, his eyes open but blank and unseeing.

She looked frantically around Madam Pomfrey was busy tending to a student that was in even worse shape. All the Medi-witches under her were at her side, gathered around the bed like gawkers around a crime scene.

"What happened?" she heard a voice ask.

"Potion explosion," one of the other medi-witches replied. "One of the older students was trying to help the Longbottom boy with his potions project. Professor Snape got a shield around Longbottom, but he threw something else into the cauldron and it blew up a second time."

"That boy should stick with Herbology and stay away from anything with even the potential to explode," another said.

"Careful now," Pomfrey said. "Stabilize his breathing. Cassandra, work on feeding him that blood replenishing potion. Healer Martijn, treat those burns."

"Yes, ma'am," they all chimed together.

Hermione touched Snape's hand, her face full of pain and conflict. She had to go soon, or they would end up seeing her. But her master was hurt and she hurt just seeing him like that. She grasped his hand, rubbing her cheek against it. "Master," she whispered.

She pulled out a vial from her pocket and shook it, changing the liquid inside into a bright, glowing green. She unstoppered it, sniffed it, and placed it to his lips. He had called it liquid bandage: the potion that knit you back together from within. A little of bit of blood replenisher, a little Dittany, and a little of something they had worked on together to put in the magical version of a first aid kit for the laboratory—just in case someone was hurt in the lab and wasn't going to be easily moved.

Sadly—only two people knew about it: Severus and Hermione. Severus had been in no condition to take it.

She soothed his neck muscles to encourage him to swallow, lifting his head so he wouldn't choke. When the potion was gone, she lay his head back on the pillow. Already, he was looking better, and his eyes fluttered open.

"Hey," she whispered.

Snape's eyes flicked around to see where he was. "Sodding Longbottom," he hissed. "Going to _murder_ him."

Hermione placed her hand on his chest to keep him from moving. "Please, Master. I didn't give you the potion so you could land yourself in Azkaban."

"Only if they catch me," he replied, wincing in pain. He stilled, placing his hand on hers.

Hermione's expression saddened. "You never let them see you hurt. No one ever sees the man who saves his students from their mistakes."

Snape grunted. "I wouldn't want to encourage them to keep doing it."

Hermione grasped his hand and lay her head against the side of the bed. He pulled his hand out from hers and tenderly stroked her hair. "Just because you've time-turned your way into your twenties and you could teach my class does not give you authority to mother me, Miss Granger. Minerva does enough of that."

Hermione sniffled and gave him a half-hearted affronted look. "You're such a git."

"I assure you that you you are not alone in that particular sentiment," Snape said, grunting as the pain flared and ebbed. His hand gently brushed against her hair. "Stupid girl. I told you not to worry about me."

"Someone has to worry about you master," Hermione replied with a deep sigh. "Merlin knows you forget to."

"I do not, ugh, forget," Snape muttered. "I simply prioritise."

"You forget to eat, too."

Snape sighed, leveling his gaze to meet hers. "Yes, mum."

Hermione coughed and thunked her head on the side of the bed. "I'm sorry, I worry. So sue me."

"I would rather not involve the barristers," Severus said, "or the Wizengamot." He brushed her tangled strands of hair away from her face. "I'll be fine. Thank you for bringing me the potion. Now get out of here before someone sees you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Really, master? Who do you think has been teaching me?"

"Dunderheads and soft-hearted, misguided—"

"Professor McGonagall is _not—_ "

"That's what they all say just before they drag them off."

The curtain rustled, and Hermione vanished into thin air, automatically disillusioning herself and rushing off to escape the hospital wing.

"You talking to yourself, Severus?" Poppy asked, coming in. "Oh, you do look much better now. That's good to see."

"No thanks to anyone here—" He tried to get up, ready to leave.

"Oh no you don't, Severus Snape," Poppy hissed. "If I have to restrain you to this bed, you _will_ get some rest and recuperation after that explosion."

Snape sneered, his lip curling. "Yes, mum."

"And don't you forget it!" Poppy tutted, smacking him upside the head with her hand.

Severus glared. Healers were _mean_.

* * *

Hermione slowly opened her eyes, groaning softly as the light seemed way too bright, causing her head to throb unmercifully.

"Hermione!" Harry cried.

Hermione winced, visibly cringing away. She held her head, and Severus drew her close against him, tucking her under the darkness of his robe.

"Close your eyes and breathe," he said. "Open them slowly."

Hermione had dug into Severus' robes, burying herself in deep. Her breathing slowly eased back to normal. She peeked out from the robes slowly , wincing, but didn't go back into hiding. "Bag," she said hoarsely.

Harry, understanding, picked up the beaded bag from where it had been tossed. He reached to hand it to her, and Hermione shook her head. "I can't—touch it. Just—green vial, red stopper. _Please_ , Harry."

Harry frowned but started to dig around. He pulled out a large stack of books, a tin of mints, a coil of rope, a first aid kit, a handful of apples, about fifteen assorted keys, a tiny, miniaturised canoe and paddles, a jar of owl nuts, a sealed bundle of beef jerky, hard tack, trail mix, a silver blade, a miniaturised cauldron, a rather extensive miniature potions kit, a bundle of parchment, a dozen library cards from various libraries around the world, a figurine of Anubis, a mess kit, extra clothes, quills and ink—

"Blimey, Hermione!" Harry moaned.

Draco sighed, pointing his wand to the bag, and said, "Accio green potion."

"Draco, no—oh bloody hell, _**DUCK!**_ "

Countless potions came flying at them from all directions, coming down the floo, shooting out the hearth, and raining potion chaos down upon both Draco and Harry. Two virtual mountains of potion flasks, vials, and bottles covered the two wizards.

"Idiots," Severus hissed, his arm diving into the dropped bag, he fished out a green bottle with a red cap, shook it vigorously, uncorked it, sniffed, and passed it to a grateful Hermione. Hermione, who was hiding from the flying bottles, slowly drank from the bottle and passed it back to him. She closed her eyes, letting her breath out slowly. "Thank Merlin."

"Oh, bloody hell!" Harry cried as a giant octopus tentacle up rose from from his back, waving threateningly at Draco.

Draco, too, was having issues of his own. Feathers were sprouting all over his body—vivid bubblegum pink feathers that would be the envy of flamingos everywhere. Harry's hair turned an eye-wateringly bright, sun-bleached blond, while Draco's turned a deep shade of aubergine and stuck out like he'd been playing with a kite in a lightning storm.

"Hee-honk!" Harry brayed.

"Neigheheheheheeeeeeh!" Draco sputtered.

Severus was towering above them both, with fury in his eyes and his lips turned up in a sneer of pure derision. He reached down, grabbing both wizards by the collar as though they were still in their first year, dragging them up to stand on their… cloven hooves. "Did you learn _**nothing**_ in all of your years at Hogwarts? Are you wizards or some sort of brainless wand-waving pseudo-plankton? One does not simply Accio potions unless they are being very specific, and by very specific I mean like "Veritaserum from the fourth shelf on the left of the most southern storeroom in a blue bottle, silver cap, with my sigil on it!"

"Heehawwww," Harry brayed. A few more tentacles had sprouted from his back and tried to slap Snape's face.

"Neeeeeehhhh!" Draco neighed.

"I know where we can take them," Hermione said, placing her hand on Severus' arm.

"The sanitarium?" Snape growled out the question, glaring balefully at the pair of imbecilic dunderheads before him.

Hermione smiled. "No, but it's better than St Mungo's where everyone can see you've come back to life and better for those two," she said jutting her chin in the general direction of the two rapidly mutating Aurors. "As if we need any more stories being spread."

Hermione held out her hand. "Trust me?" She gazed on the pile of things Harry had pulled out of her bag with a sad expression. "I wish I could pick up my bag, but there is no telling what my touching it will do to me."

"Allow me," Severus said, pushing Harry and Draco towards her. He picked up the bag, and with a wave of his hand, wandlessly and silently moved all of the former contents into the beaded bag once more. He shook his head at the pile of vials, flasks, and bottles, many of which were broken and leaking, mixing together into the unholy mess that had transformed Draco and Harry, resulting in the unlucky duo bearing a strong resemblance to a pair of refugees from Jim Henson's Creature Shop.

Shaking his head, Snape placed his hand in Hermione's, realising there was something cool and smooth in her hand—a focus or a Portkey—ready to wisk them away.

"Houston, we have a problem," Hermione said.

 _Fwwwoooofffp!_

The Portkey instantly came to life, sucking them into the vortex that would carry them to their destination.

* * *

"You were right to be concerned," Kingsley told them, sighing deeply as he sat down next to Snape and Hermione. "Minerva has several significant gaps in her memories and blocks in other places. There are some things she may never remember, and there are others that will be painful for her to remember."

"Been there," Hermione said, frowning. "Harry and Draco?"

"Malfoy is unaffected, but Potter—there is some evidence of tampering in his mind as well. It's mostly fairly old stuff. Maybe five or six years back."

"Hrm," Hermione thought for a moment. "That would be roughly around our fifth year."

"Anything specific you remember around that time?" Kingsley asked.

Hermione's brows came together as she thought. "Umbridge."

Kingsley winced. "Horrible woman."

"I believe—" Hermione trailed off. Her face reddened. "I was a bit infatuated with Ronald Weasley at the time. It got worse during the following years, but that was definitely the start of it. Harry, though, started to trust much less. I had thought it was because of his having witnessed Cedric's death and people not believing him."

"I know that expression, Hermione," Kingsley commented. "What is it?"

"I'd always rationalised it as being what Muggles call post-traumatic stress disorder," Hermione replied. "He didn't trust us. He didn't talk to us at first. He said we never wrote him—nothing we said or did was ever right. Harry insisted that only Sirius understood; that's what he'd always say."

Hermione rubbed her temples with her fingers.

"Severus is fine, Hermione," Kingsley said warmly. "We had him looked over from head-to-toe. If there were any blocks left in his memory, they aren't there now, and you, too, seem to be free of them."

"And Harry? Minerva?"

"I will take time to get them to a point at which a sudden return of memories won't hurt them. Seems as though the biggest ones you two have already tackled: remembering each other. Remembering years of being master and apprentice was no small thing to remember. Whoever did it must have had to tap into some extraordinary power—power that is now faded."

"That's why we're remembering?" Hermione asked.

"Our best guess, Hermione," Kingsley said.

"Are they—" Hermione trailed off. "Are their tentacles still locked together like a pair of male octopi fighting over a female?"

Kingsley looked up as if for divine guidance. "Thankfully those reversals went well. Potter might bray every so often, and Malfoy still makes the odd neighing sound in his sleep, but those should wear off when the effects of potion would have normally worn off." Kingsley paused. "You may want to keep them away from the giant squid for a few months, though. It could—possibly trigger a relapse or something."

Hermione worked her jaw a few times, looking somewhat like a gaping fish. "Okay, then. Let's move on."

"Bad news," Kingsley said. "Your beaded bag is toast. The curse on that bag—spell, hex, whatever—was woven very specifically into every fibre of that bag. It was created for you to crave having it around, and it is linked to—" he trailed off.

"To?" Hermione repeated.

"The entire Weasley family."

" _ **WHAT?"**_

Kingsley winced, and Hermione clamped her hands over her mouth.

"Sorry," she squeaked.

"It wasn't just Ronald Weasley, Hermione," Kingsley said. "The touch of anyone of Weasley blood will trigger renewal of the spell on the bag and thus the hold over you."

"To do… what, exactly?" Hermione asked, her teeth gritting together.

"Be agreeable," Kingsley replied, wincing slightly.

Hermione flushed red, her hands balling into fists, and those fists were transforming into paws. "Be AGREEABLE?!"

Kingsley touched her paws gently. The warmth of his gaze and his hands instantly defused the irate witch sphinx, and her paws returned to the smaller, human shapes. "There now," he soothed. "Some of us know there are better ways to get the assistance of an intelligent witch. Some of us even know how to bribe a sphinx."

Hermione grinned at him. "You always know how to make me feel better, Kingsley."

"Didn't you know? I'm incredibly talented," Kingsley said in between chuckles. His face grew serious as he touched her temples. "How are you feeling, now? Healer Aubergine said you had a nasty little geas on you that prevented you from going to Mungo's without a fight."

Hermione cast her gaze over to the tall healer dressed in—no surprise—dark purple robes. "He said that it was deteriorating. That is what allowed me to go to Mungo's most recently when I suspected I was forgetting things. Only a year ago, the very thought of going to Mungo's set me into a panic."

Kingsley narrowed his eyes. "Someone didn't want you seeking help for you memory loss—or to even detect it. Most people who can succeed in memory charms don't bother with secondary spells."

"And Severus?" Hermione asked.

"They are taking good care of him, Hermione," Kingsley replied, patting her hand.

Hermione nodded and have a half-smile, trying her best to be positive.

"I'm glad you brought them here, Hermione," Shacklebolt said. "Mungo's was not the place for this kind of thing."

"I don't think Harry or Draco knew we had a private hospital here."

Kingsley shrugged. "Aurors are taught that highest ranks are the hit wizards and witches, and they have reserved beds at St Mungo's. They have no reason to think that there would be something here, deep within the bowels of the Ministry. I did, however, swear Heehaw and Neigh into secrecy, including anything they may learn about you and Severus."

"They are never going to live that down, are they?"

"Never," Kingsley said in a sing-song tone. His brows furrowed. "If what I think happened comes to light, they will need to know your secret. Best it be learned now under oath than later when you are trying to keep them alive."

Hermione bowed her head. "I understand, Kingsley. I trust your judgement." She grinned suddenly. "Do I get to call them Heehaw and Horseradish?"

Kingsley snorted. "All the other Unspeakables are."

Hermione giggled into her sleeve. "I love you, Kingsley. You're the best boss _ever_."

"Don't let that get out," Kingsley replied with a wink. "My cabinet members will be asking for hefty raises in no time."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I would never compromise my chances of getting more rare tomes."

Kingsley chuckled and clapped her on the back. "I see we have an agreement. You really were Severus' apprentice. It makes more sense now— _Master_ Granger."

Hermione shook her head. "That's going to take some getting used to. Remembering it is strange enough. At least, when it's between us and close friends, Hermione will be easier to swallow."

Shacklebolt grinned.

"Minister Shacklebolt, Minister Shacklebolt!" a young wizard called out frantically as he gasped for breath. "Healer Thornwhistle said to tell you, Mr Weasley is gone! He told Merryweather that he had to get back to work. She's a newbie—he still had his Ministry badge and everything."

"What?" Kingsley growled. "Who assigned a new healer to a detainee?"

"I don't know sir," the wizard panted. "I was just sent to tell you."

"Why wasn't he under guard?"

"I don't know sir," the poor wizard groveled.

"Why _don't_ you know anything!" Kingsley hissed, throwing up his hands as he stormed off, dragging the groveling wizard along with him by the collar.

"Issues?" Severus' voice rumbled over Hermione's shoulder.

"I think I need a hug," Hermione said, her face torn somewhere between frustration and fear.

Dark cloth whooshed as Snape pulled her into him, cocooning her in the complete blackness of his robes and the strength of his arms.

"Help," she whispered. "I'm being attacked by a black hole."

"Complaining?" Snape rumbled.

"Never. Do carry on."

"I want to know why that room wasn't under guard, and I want to know why the most inexperienced healer was assigned to it!" came a very angry voice.

There was the loud slamming of a door accompanied by the sound of something heavy falling off a wall.

"Kingsley gets angry?" Snape whispered in disbelief.

"Ronald escaped from Ministry custody."

"Now, I'm angry."

"Hug me instead."

Severus twitched, somewhat conflicted. Then his arms tightened around her. "As my lady commands."

Hermione sighed softly, snuggling into his embrace. "I like that."

"Hn?"

"Your lady."

Snape pressed his face into her hair, closing his eyes.  
"If you would prefer, I could call you Granger or St—"

His words were cut off by a paw to his face.

Seconds later, just as Harry and Draco finished buttoning up their robes after their physical, they were bowled over by a golden greater sphinx who was madly running away from an even larger ebony greater sphinx.

"What runs faster, faster, than

A watched kettle or a minute hand?"

The golden sphinx roared as she fled from the huge black beast that was chasing her.

"I shall catch you,

Just you wait.

A riddle caught,

Is a riddle gained.

I shall keep running unrestrained.

I shall catch you in my grasp.

I shall pursue across chasms vast.

Let no other man stand and wait,

For I shall claim thee as my mate.

What runs faster than your minute hand?

What shall chase you like wind across the sand?"

As the two sphinxes went bounding by, the experienced healers lifted up the trays, moved over, stepped to the side, and rescued carts with practiced movements, barely even pausing in what they were doing.

"The Ministry has a sphinx?!" Harry cried.

"Fix those glasses, Potter," Draco snapped. "There was obviously two of them."

Dual roars shook the walls, and a few portraits came crashing down as a healer swiftly caught a jar of cotton balls.

An older wizard dressed in pale blue robes came shuffling into the hospital area, white as a sheet.

"Oh! Marcus, what's wrong?" one of the Medi-witches cooed.

"I… I went to get a book from the reference library and—"

"And?"

"And—I was told by two very large beasts that the library was occupied, and I should come back later."

"Oh, Marcus, this is what you get for being on holiday for the last few months. Come on, I'll get you a nice cuppa."

"The hell, Malfoy!" Harry exclaimed. "Where in the hell are we?"

Draco scratched his head. "Past the point of no return, Potter."

"How are you all so calm about this?" Harry demanded to the nearby healers.

"Oh, the sphinx courtship? That's nothing, Mr Potter. We've had dragons getting it on in the foyer, and we also had that unicorn and the pegasus having at it the other month. The manticores were a bit trickier, but it's not like they can check in at the local tavern, eh?"

Harry's lip quivered. "How is this even _normal_?"

"Ah, you must be from upstairs, lad," the elder Healer said as ran his wand over another patient. "Welcome to the Unspeakables Infirmary—if you haven't seen it out there, you'll surely see it here."

Harry made a soft whining noise in the back of his throat. "I _knew_ I shouldn't have signed that parchment."

Draco was all smiles. "Wicked!"

* * *

"How's that trace coming?" Draco yelled into the wind, the beat of giant wings came in tandem from both the gold and ebony sphinx as they carried the two Aurors.

"This way—I'm pretty sure we're heading to the Burrow!" Harry yelled back. The beam off the crystal he was holding was leading them, and both sphinxes were flying directly to the target. To accentuate the utter strangeness, the crystal was dangling around the neck of a ginger-furred Niffler.

"You've been Weasel's best mate since you were eleven years old, Potter," Draco said. "What's going on in his freckly head?"

"I don't know!" Harry replied. "I really don't! If you'd asked me if Ron was capable of this last week I'd have told you that you were completely nutters."

"We _are_ nutters, Potter," Draco muttered. "We're both riding sphinx-back to apprehend your ex-best mate using a magic-tracking crystal attached to a bloody Niffler!"

Suddenly the two sphinxes banked harshly, pinning their wings to the side and then straightening out again as they pursued the beam's end.

"Are you trying to kill us, Severus?" Draco yelled.

"No, but if you keep yelling into my ear, I will most definitely forget which side of me is up and which side is down while flying."

Draco gulped and wisely chose to shut it immediately.

Hermione rumbled, her purr vibrating Harry to the point where he had to cling like a burr to her golden mane for purchase.

The flight had been long—far longer than they had expected. By the time Harry was sure they were heading for Burrow, they decided Apparating in would be far too risky. Apparation was noisy, after all. Neither of them wanted to risk alerting Ronald that they were hot on his trail. He had also had considerable Auror training under his belt, and he had already demonstrated a respectable amount of skill.

By the time Kingsley had figured out where the system had broken down and how Ron had gotten away, he insisted that the pair team up with Hermione and Severus to track him down, handing Harry the brightly-coloured Niffler with the tracking crystal hanging around its neck. They had wondered why they weren't being given brooms until Hermione and Severus had demonstrated exactly why they weren't taking backup with them either.

"Might want to hang onto something," Severus muttered. "I've never attempted a landing before."

" _ **WHAT?!**_ " Draco cried, madly throwing his arms around Severus' ebony mane and shrieking at the top of his lungs, " _ **I'm going to die! Just wait until my father hears about this!**_ "

Hermione zoomed ahead and down, lazily spinning circles as she landed almost daintily on silent paws, folding her wings to her sides like a practiced athlete. Severus mirrored her the entire way, landing beside her with a soft huff as Draco rolled off and kissed the ground multiple times.

Severus and Hermione head-bonked together, rubbing against each other as re-greeted each other, completely ignoring Harry, who was still clinging tightly to Hermione's mane and Usekh collar. Severus used one giant paw to swat him off Hermione so he could rub his cheek against her back, sending a Harry tumbling off into the dirt with a yelp.

"That wasn't very nice, Severus," Hermione admonished, even as she purred.

"I was never a nice man," Severus responded. "It is only logical that I am also not a nice sphinx."

"Liar," Hermione rumbled, lightly smacking the side of his face with her tail as she trotted over to hoist Draco and Harry off the ground by the collar using her teeth.

"We will keep watch outside," Severus growled just before giving a very leonine yawn, fangs and all.

"Call us if you require assistance that would be worth someone seeing us as we are. We will be using our senses to make sure no one sneaks up behind you from the outside."

Harry and Draco nodded together. They swiftly drew their wands and headed off into the marsh, sneaking up to the Burrow.

"Last thing we need is Molly Weasley passing out upon seeing my face plastered onto a winged lion's body, hrm?" Severus mused.

"I rather enjoyed seeing Severus Snape's face attached to that sexy sphinx body," Hermione purred rather flirtatiously.

Severus rumbled at her, nostrils flaring. "Temptress."

"Yours."

"Hrr…" he replied, licking his teeth thoughtfully. "I am suddenly craving vast expanses of sand, warm sun, and cool water." His ears swiveled as he carefully listened for signs of any other persons on the premises. Hermione's, too, flicked from one direction to another.

"Nothing," Hermione said.

"Small favours," Snape said, sitting down and grooming his paw before casting it over his mane.

"I'll go guard the opposite side," Hermione said, snuggling up to Severus and giving him a tender lick on the ear before trotting off into the reeds.

Severus gazed off after her. "Sometimes I wonder. What would it have been like if Lily had lived. Would we have been friends? Or would we have only postponed our split for another day?"

He set his head down on his paws, ears swiveling as he watched over the Burrow. What would life have been like for him without Hermione? Would Lily have tolerated someone like Hermione being around Severus any more than she had Mulciber and Avery?

His brightest, shining memory of Lily had been when they were children—long before they arrived at Hogwarts. Her compassion and her eagerness to learn from him had been like a breath of fresh air to him. All of it had changed once they went to Hogwarts. All his dreams of a future with Lily had crumbled into dust and blown away. It hadn't been sudden, but it had happened all the same.

While Snape had found nothing but pain and ridicule, even with snickers of not being pure enough in his own house, she had quickly risen like a newborn star. Wherever she went, her light shined down upon everyone—until she eventually began looking down her nose at him and all those who did not see eye-to-eye with herself.

It had angered him, slowly at first. It oozed under the surface as molten lava moved beneath the Earth's crust. It waited, waited, waited for the right time, the perfect moment to erupt : one day when Severus had been hung upside-down, his disreputable pants revealed for all to see. And he had lashed out at her with the cruelest word he had known.

 _Mudblood_.

He had done it. He had unleashed one of the foulest of epithets against his only childhood friend. He had been no better than Petunia—worse, perhaps because he knew better. And when his pleas for forgiveness had fallen on deaf ears, he had turned to a different sort of revenge: power. He had tried to prove himself to the Dark Lord. Then, because of _him_ , Lily's life was placed in danger.

No matter what he thought of the hated Potter—the old loyalty to Lily had remained, and he had desperately tried to save her. And he had stumbled right back into Dumbledore's waiting clutches—the man who had erased his very sphinx from him. Albus had protected his little Gryffindors and let Severus take the fall over and over again and repeatedly demonstrated that Severus' life meant absolutely nothing to him.

He had sworn after that revelation to never trust any Gryffindor ever again. Gryffindors were nothing but trouble.

For a decade, he had walled himself off from all emotion, compassion, or anything resembling pity.

Until Hermione Granger had walked into his life—first as a student, then as an apprentice, then a friend, and then a peer: a skilled master in her own right. She had gifted him with the one thing no other had given him: simple forgiveness. No matter how many times he insulted her, sneered, berated, or rained his bitterness and rancor down upon her in public, she took it and soldiered on. When it was just them, she would absorb every single lesson he gave her. She looked upon him as though he was her entire world. He pushed her out of her comfort zone. He forced her to think for herself. He molded her into a warrior witch who would not, ever, become what he had. She would never be taken for granted. She would never bow to the whims of stupidity.

She would be Hermione Jean Granger. She would be no one's witch but her own.

And then bloody Albus got his hooks into her, and began to erase the existence of that strong, powerful, independent witch.

Severus began to write a journal of spells and discoveries from their lessons—a last resort in case they were compromised. He detailed their work: wards, protections, potions, and survival. He extracted the memory of it every evening, put it in a vial, and did not replace it until the morning. Then the day came when he looked at the vial and had no idea what was in it. He watched the memory, horrified that something so significant had been taken from them both. He dug the journal out from under the floor stone, marched up to Hermione Granger as she stood in the hall, abandoned by her oblivious friends. He gave it to her, knowing she didn't remember him, praying that her spell knowledge was not lost to her and could be triggered with just a little reminder. He gave it to her and then he Obliviated himself.

It had been the only way to guarantee that Albus Dumbledore would never find out.

While Albus Dumbledore had deemed it absolutely essential that one Hermione Granger had to remain steadily affixed to the side of the Boy-Who-Kept-Trying-to-Die-Through-Various-Acts-of-Stupid, he hadn't thought to actually train her. No, Albus believed Hermione just came naturally inclined to the position of bodyguard as an exceptionally talented witch.

She had been, but Severus had trained her to be even better. Then, because becoming emotionally attached to someone like Severus would only be a distraction for the both of them, he had stolen their memories of each other—the wizard who had once been a sphinx, and the witch who would one day become one. Albus had stolen their promises to each other—promises that once the war was over that they would find each other and attempt a relationship that went far beyond student and teacher, or master and apprentice. And Severus would have waited for another decade if it meant being reunited with her because Hermione had given him something special: trust.

Trust was something he believed had been lost to him forever.

 _Mudblood_.

And Albus Dumbledore had stolen that sweet succor away from him again and again, allowing him to believe that pain and guilt were the only emotions he was permitted to feel.

Somehow, despite the late headmaster's best efforts, she _had_ found him again. She had saved him, and she kept on saving him with every small touch, every soft purr, and even the rather needy growl of want that sent every single rational thought flying right out of his head.

His _mate_.

His beautiful, powerful, glorious sphinx—

Severus blushed. Had someone ever told him that he would claim his future life-mate in the middle of a library deep in the bowels of the Ministry shortly after his "resurrection", he would have told them exactly where to go. His tail lashed. Had anyone told him he would have had a life-mate at _all—_ he would have given them explicit directions regarding how and where to stick it.

Yet, even the memories that would have allowed him to think that such a thing might even be possible had been repeatedly stolen from him.

He stared off into the distance, seeing nothing, but knowing she was there in the dark, watching over the Burrow, just as he was from the other side; he knew they had defied truly astronomical odds. Even now they were plagued by things that had to be done before they could settle down and simply enjoy each other's company. Then again, maybe that was not so bad a thing just now, as the first and last time they had coupled together, they had brought about a new ley line in the middle of the Unspeakables' library. Not that anyone was complaining that the Ministry had more power running through it, but questions were being asked outside of the DoM on how one just appeared out of nowhere.

Severus coughed. Part of him wondered if there was something marketable in that. Need a ley line? Provide a nice quiet, undisturbed place with plenty of reading material, and the ley line will come to you, courtesy of a mated pair of sphinxes! Or was that a mating pair of sphinxes? He slapped his face with his open paw. There was also the fact that whenever he, Hermione, and a ley line met in greeting, energy sphinxlets happened. The gods only knew where those went off to, how long they lasted, or if they were completely different entities altogether.

Severus' ear flicked. Odd that there wasn't much of a ley line presence here where magicals liked to live. While he didn't expect one to be running right through the house, he did wonder why the place was barren of them altogether.

Hermione had said that they had rebuilt the Burrow after Death Eaters had so "kindly" burnt it to the ground. It had been sad, she said, but they also had the opportunity to build it a little better the way they had dreamed of it being. Yet—no ley lines. Maintaining a magical residence without one at least nearby would be exhausting. Didn't the Lovegoods live nearby as well?

Severus' tail twitched. He was really curious now. Curiosity had been a mainstay in his life, but nothing compared to the almost ravenous curiosity of a sphinx. Whatever he may have had before, it was far more than doubled. It was almost as if he was making up for all the time he hadn't been able to shift—robbed of the ability by a not-so-well-meaning Dumbledore.

And for what?

Insuring that one Harry Potter had 2 people with him during his struggle to bring an end to Voldemort. Meanwhile hundreds of people were dying to cover for him, while hundreds more were dying because the Dark Lord didn't like their shoes.

Had it worked? Yes.

Should it have worked? No.

Stupid, dumb luck, as Minerva put it. Potter's life was a poster child for stupid, dumb luck.

Then again, had he not put so much time in making Hermione Granger into a better witch—supporting her growth, encouraging her to look outside the box, stressing her to be strong and independant—would she have had the skills to make their mission work?

Maybe, maybe not. At least they had survived. Tom Riddle was no more. The Dark Lord had risen and fallen—his immortality having lasted him less than a century. Albus Dumbledore had still outlived him. Hell, Rolanda Hooch had outlived him. Most of the elder witches and wizards had. What had his search for immortality truly gained him?

Death and Purgatory.

At least Severus had only believed he had been a ghost for the last two years. He had believed that was what he was—never striving to be anything else. Tom had eked out an existence trying to make himself a body for a decade. The body he had finally created had not been kind to his charisma and comeliness.

Severus wondered if the Dark Lord could have possibly done as much as he did, had his face originally been the face of Severus Snape. Could have charmed the masses with imperfect features—the dramatically aquiline nose, pale skin, and "greasy" hair.

At least Hermione wasn't complaining—no, she seemed very satisfied with every detail from his rather sharp nose, pale skin, not so pale fur, all the way from nose to his tail tip. How many others could say the same… sphinx or not. Well, maybe if you weren't Kingsley, who seemed to be happy to see both Hermione and Severus with equal enthusiasm.

Could Lily have?

A loud crash suddenly caught his attention, and Severus stood, ears swiveling as he heard yells. It wasn't the kind of yell he was expecting, however—

" _ **RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!**_ "

Severus flattened his ears against his head. "Well, obviously Molly is still alive," he muttered.

A chain of gibbering nonsense and irate yelling came shortly after, making Severus twitch slightly. He could only imagine what Potter and Draco were experiencing close up.

" _ **I'M GOING TO HEX HIM INTO THE NEXT MILLENNIUM!**_ "

 _ **Crash!**_

That didn't sound good.

"Mrs Weasley!"

 _ **Thump!**_

 _ **Clatter!**_

"Mrs Weasley!"

Then came the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh.

"Malfoy! I—Merlin, child, I'm so sorry!"

"Mrrfflrfhf!"

"I think you probably broke his nose, Mrs Weasley—"

"Oh—Harry! I thought you'd released him. I thought it was all a mistake, but then I saw him looking in the biscuit tin for the key to our Gringott's vault. Then Ronald spun around and paralysed me, setting all of my kitchen implements to go on the attack!"

"You okay, Malfoy?"

"MrrfFFFFrrgh!"

"Here use this."

"Mfffmff!"

Snape closed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. He hadn't heard anyone leaving that house, so the errant Weasley must have left the premises some time before they arrived.

"Did he say anything?" Draco mumbled, his voice sounding muffled for a moment, then he let out a sharp yelp as Harry fixed his nose with a quick Episkey. "Perhaps where he might be headed?"

"Nothing. But—he has our Gringott's key," Molly fretted, wringing her hands. "We don't have much after rebuilding the Burrow, but it's all we have left to work with."

"Didn't you get any of the reward money—Ron's share for his part in helping take out Voldemort?" Draco fussed, obviously still having a few nasal issues. He sounded a little like a foreign taxi driver—complete with lost and clipped syllables.

"What reward money?" Molly's voice asked, sounding quite confused.

"We all got a sizeable amount," Hermione said, sitting beside him.

Severus startled, almost tripping over his own paws as he quickly spun around. Hermione could be a bloody ninja when she wanted to be.

"You did too, and a lot of back pay that you apparently never received," Hermione said, scratching her ear with her hind foot. "I had it all transferred to your Gringott's account. I didn't realise then that my name was still on the account as your apprentice. They never questioned my request. Now, I guess I understand. Then there's all that stuff they can't touch back at Hogwarts because no one can get past your wards but me, and they can't afford for me to come break the wards for them."

Severus gave Hermione an appraising look. "You were going to charge them to break into my old chambers?"

"Gal's gotta eat," Hermione said with a smile of mischief.

"Why did you—it wasn't like you knew our relationship was anything but hostile at that point."

Hermione sighed. "After Harry shared your memories, and I really thought about that book you made me memorise and then destroy—I felt like there had to be more to it. It was like an itch that I couldn't quite reach. Maybe it was the sphinx in me, sensing that something mysterious was being guarded within me. All I know is that I felt they had no right to get in there if they couldn't get in on their own. If they wanted to cheat, well, then I had to be paid to do it."

"Very mercenary."

"My fees are apparently a bit too high."

Snape snorted. "Knowing you, not quite high enough."

"Anyway, Harry spent some of his reward money to pay for his part in destroying a few levels of Gringott's and, uh, running off with their guard dragon," Hermione told him. "I paid for my part by guarding the vaults while they rebuilt the floors—the high security ones. When I ate my first interloper, they hired me for real. I think they—respected me more because I was less human."

"Very goblin."

"They began to pay me after my service was done—books, artifacts, shiny things no one but the goblins had ever seen. Them and the curse-breakers, that is. As a result, Harry is no longer banished from Gringott's and I—they want to built a suite in the lower vaults for me to live in."

"Did you take them up on it?"

"I told them it depended on what it looked like and if it had room for expansion, thinking they would just let it go as too high a request."

 _Thwap!_

Severus' palm smacked Hermione upside the head.

"Ow! Watch those claws!"

Severus sighed. "If I know goblins, that was basically like throwing down the gauntlet. They will now do their very best to you something you will never want to leave. All out of principle. You're a sphinx. They will want to protect you as fiercely as the Crown jewels."

Hermione made a meeping sound. "Oh." Her brows furrowed. "Well, I'm not going to like it unless there is enough room for you too." Her eyes widened as she realised what she said—verbally confirming the elephant in the room. "If you… want to that is—move in with me."

Severus met her gaze and pressed his paw to her face. "Hermione—if you are determined to settle for my sorry arse, I would not disagree with sharing space with you of all people."

"It would not be settling," Hermione scoffed. "Settling would be marrying one of those horrible suitors who actually believe that a token gift and an owled letter will get them in the door—or worse, Ronald."

Severus shuddered.

"Exactly."

"I didn't smell anything or hear anything unusual. I don't think Ron is working with anyone. Maybe he had a plan for this?" Hermione seemed torn—what she should feel and what she should do seemed to be at odds.

"If he had been working with anyone—Dumbledore specifically—then he would have been given a plan to escape. It is quite possible that is what Mr Weasley is doing right now."

"Stunning his mum hardly seems like a good start. Molly will be sure to tell everyone. At high volume. Knowing Harry, though, he and Draco will have already sent out their Patroni to the rest of the family in an attempt to intercept him at the bank. I wonder what is taking them so long to move—maybe they informed the other Aurors already?"

Severus shrugged. "Hard to say. It is hard enough for me to imagine Potter being particularly competent."

"Severus," Hermione huffed.

"Last I knew of him, he was tripping over anything that could kill him. It was not something one forgets easily—without help from Dumbledore, apparently."

Hermione frowned. "I keep forgetting you never got to see—well, he _did_ get better."

"Do not think I am not grateful for that change," Severus replied. "I would hate to think Potter's luck finally ran out, and he ended up being flattened as he forgot to look both ways before crossing a street."

Hermione slapped her face with her paw, shaking her head.

"We have to get moving to try and catch Ron," Harry exclaimed.

"We can't just leave Mrs Weasley here alone after all that!" Draco replied.

"We can't just let him get away!"

"You sent out Patroni to the Head Auror—he'll send someone to intercept at Gringott's!"

Harry made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. "Ron's my best mate—was my best mate. I have to know. I have to catch him!"

"And if he comes back here and decides he needs to beat on his mum some more?"

Dead silence.

"No—damnit! What if he gets away? What if he stops because it's me? What if—"

"Damnit, Potter," Draco hissed. "Get a grip and stop bleeding your heart all over! I don't _care_ if he was there to witness the creation of your first child. You can't save everyone. You can help keep this woman here from being assaulted— _again_ —in her own home."

"But if one of us stays—"

"And then both of us don't have backup, good one," Draco retorted. "Remember our job, Potter."

"We can have Hermione and Professor Snape—"

"SSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTT!"

"Hermione?" Molly's voice interrupted. "What do you mean Professor Snape? Severus is alive?"

"So much for keeping my resurrection secret," Severus said with a disdainful sniff.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione sighed, thunking her head solidly against Severus' shoulder.

"Well, now she knows, we might as well call them in, and then we can go—"

 _Slap!_

"Potter, for Merlin's sake, listen to yourself!"

"Tell me what the hell is going on!" Molly screeched shrilly.

"Potter would make a dreadful spy," Severus quipped.

Hermione just groaned. "He's always been—very driven."

"And easily derailed."

Hermione winced. "Yes."

A glowing snow leopard appeared in front of them and spoke, "Potter let the Kneazle out of the bag. Might as well come watch over Mrs Weasley."

"Imbecile," Severus grunted, transforming in tandem with Hermione.

Hermione shook her hair out now that it was not being held back with the Nemes headdress. "I love him, but sometimes I just want to eat him."

Severus raised a brow. "We might as well go in so Potter can fly off and play the hero."

* * *

"You—you're alive," Molly whispered, taking a step towards Snape and then freezing in place. "How?"

"I didn't actually die," Snape replied. "It is a very long and hideously complicated story, but let us just say that Master Granger saved my life and didn't realise it until quite recently."

" _Master_ Granger?" Molly gasped, staring wide-eyed at Hermione.

"Also a long, complicated story," Hermione said, rubbing the top of her nose.

"Does this have anything to do with my Ronald?" Molly asked.

"No," Harry said immediately.

"Yes," Severus and Hermione said at the same time.

Molly looked at Draco.

"Don't look at me, I'm not even a friend of the Weasel."

"Don't you have somewhere to be, Potter?" Severus said, scowling down at Harry with a very familiar rancor.

Harry stared like a deer caught in the glaring headlights of a Muggle car.

"Now," Severus hissed.

"Come on, let's go!" Harry said, grabbing Draco by the sleeve and rushing headlong out the door. With a sharp crack, the pair immediately Disapparated.

Hermione snickered into her sleeve.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing," Hermione replied, clearing her throat. She glided over to the kettle, filled it with water, and set it over the fire. She opened the cupboard and pulled out Molly's teapot and a tin of chamomile, and set it on the counter to await the heated water.

"Hermione dear, " Molly said, her voice trembling. "What's going on?"

"Might want to have a seat, Mrs Weasley. It's kind of a long story."

Molly gave Hermione an almost fearful look, but she moved to sit down in one of the overstuffed armchairs. "Is my Ronald under a spell? Did he attack anyone else? Why on earth would he attack his own mother?"

Hermione waited until the tea was poured and served before saying anything more. "I found out a few months ago that I had several gaps in my memories. Gaps with information I should have known. I sensed there were things I had somehow forgotten but not what they were. Malfoy had suggested that I go to a healer a year ago, but the mere thought of it always sent me into a terrible panic attack. At least it had, until very recently. I checked myself in, and they found out I had several memory blocks and that I had also been Obliviated multiple times. My acquired skills, I somehow got to keep, but certain people and events had been erased from my mind. And I couldn't remember _where_ I had learned certain things. I had forgotten where and when I had gotten this." Hermione tugged her blouse open to show the embedded laurel and gemstone and her master's mark.

Molly gasped.

"I wasn't even aware that I had it. Someone had charmed it to go unnoticed, even by myself." Hermione sipped her tea. "I started to remember a few things—the healers said I would eventually start to remember, but it would be painful. They cast a sort of time-release spell on me to keep me from being bombarded by memories and going completely insane, but they said some memories would still come in a rush. They wanted to keep me under observation, but I refused."

"I decided to attend the victory ball to take the opportunity to interrogate the old Headmaster's portrait," Hermione continued. "He told me that he'd erased my memories so I wouldn't remember how awful Ron had been to me, so I wouldn't hesitate to forgive him. He needed me to remain friends with Harry, and since Ron was Harry's best mate—I needed to forgive him."

"Ronald was taught better than to—"

Severus shot Molly his fiercest glare, the one he had often reserved for the likes of misbehaving first years and Neville Longbottom. Molly's eyes widened and she instantly stopped talking.

Hermione sighed. "Dumbledore put a spell on me that caused me to forgive Ron any time he touched me—but it wasn't just Ron. If any Weasley touched me, I instantly became more compliant—much more suggestible. Sometimes, even forgetful. All he had to do was touch me, and I'd forget all that anger and just forgive him. No matter what."

Hermione's expression darkened. "Like catching him in a broom closet shagging Lavender Brown. Like forgetting every vindictive little thing he'd ever said and done to me. I found him attractive, unnaturally so, to the point where I became exceedingly jealous and overprotective. I cast spells on other people just so he could win a position on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I even finished his homework—because he asked."

"But, Hermione, that was your choice!" Molly insisted. "You can't blame my Ron just because you chose do those things. You're a very forgiving person! You can't blame Dumbledore for that. Dumbledore was the reason we were able to stand against Y-you Know—Voldemort."

"I had no choice!" Hermione snapped, her hand balling into a fist and shaking. "That is the entire problem! I was _too_ forgiving. I almost threw myself off the Astronomy tower because of the terrible, hurtful things he said to me. All the time. Every day. You _heard_ what he said at the _soirée_. You were _there_!"

"He must have been cursed. Influenced somehow!" Molly said, wringing her hands. "He wouldn't say that. He wouldn't _do_ that! He wouldn't attack his own mother! He's a good boy!"

A weasel Patronus bounded in through the wall at just that moment. Arthur's voice boomed out of it. "Molly, love, Ron's gone and done something truly horrible. Everything we had in our family Gringott's vault is gone. The goblins told us that I came in, visited the vault, and left shortly after. Well, _**I**_ obviously didn't do it, but they have eyewitnesses. I checked my wand, and it's not mine. My _wand_ is missing! The Aurors are here too. Percy and Bill are here. There's nothing, Molly. There's not even a single knut left. I'll contact you if we find anything else."

The Patronus disappeared with a soft pop.

"No!" Molly wailed. "This isn't right. This isn't _my_ Ronald! He's under a spell! He must be!" She grasped at Hermione's hand. "You'll tell them right? You'll tell them that he must be under a spell!"

Hermione froze in place as realisation dawned. Severus, too, put the math together.

"Molly," Severus said very gently. "Look at what you are doing, even now."

Molly stared at him, confused. "What do you mean, Severus?"

"Even now, you reach out to seize her as you beg her to change her mind. Yet, you don't even realise it do you?"

Molly shook her head in denial. "I don't know what you're saying, Severus. It's perfectly natural to reach out and touch someone—"

"Yet, not once since you discovered I was alive, did you ever do so for me." There was no anger in Severus' voice, only truth.

"I—" Molly said, her hands clenching Hermione even more tightly.

"You're hurting me," Hermione said, wincing.

Molly stared at her hand as though it were not attached to her arm. She dropped Hermione's wrist as if it was scalding hot. "I don't—I _never_ —What is going _on_?" She buried her head in her hands and wept bitterly.

Hermione rubbed at her sore wrists, and Severus was at her side in a flash. He placed his hands around her wrist, whispering an incantation that caused his hands to cool and soothe her much-abused joints. Hermione leaned into him, snuffling his chest with pleasure. "Thank you."

"I would groom you to make you feel better, but I think Mrs Weasley has had quite enough stressors for one afternoon."

Hermione smiled up at him. "Rain check?"

"But of course."

Hermione purred softly, staring at his flawless collection of buttons on his doublet.

Hermione traced a glyph in the air with her finger and made a complex gesture. Her Patronus promptly leapt through the glyph and zoomed out the open window.

"Informing Kingsley?"

Hermione nodded. "He should probably know. I doubt Harry or Draco would even think of it. Draco might, if he's not dragging Harry by the collar and beating him senseless."

Severus raised a brow and sniffed. "You've improved the silent spell framework."

"Frequent practice, master," Hermione told him with a small smile. I crafted many of the silent wards using the framework that we developed. Some of them are currently guarding a few vaults in Gringott's."

"Oh? Expanding your career already?"

Hermione grinned. "I do like to hoard my knowledge."

Severus brushed her cheek with his thumb, his expression softening.

Molly let out a strange, strangled wail. "Severus—what is going _on_?" She stared back and forth between Hermione and Snape. "Hermione? Why are you—I feel as if a whole lot of something somehow passed me by."

Hermione suddenly looked a little dizzy, and she quickly sat down on the nearby settee. Severus sat down on the opposite end, putting some distance between them, but Hermione glared at him and scooted over so she could properly lean against him.

"Her—"

"She's going to find out soon enough, Severus. It might as well be now, while she's sitting down." Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples absently. "We go way back. Longer than you might think. Since my second year. Severus is my master."

"Was."

"Is _still—_ psh." Hermione grunted. "He taught me things—first to get my mind off of what other people thought. Then, it became a challenge—to see how much I could retain. But, we worked together for years. Dumbledore gave me a time-turner so I could take more classes, and I used it to split my time three ways. Four if you count making time for sleep. Half of it was spent doing everything my fellow classmates. Half was spent with Severus as his apprentice. The goal was to get me prepared for when, how did you phrase it? 'Ready for when Potter does something overwhelmingly stupid and you have to save him from the potentially fatal results of his typical idiocy'."

"Sounds like me."

"Hnn," Hermione agreed. "It went on like this for years. By the time I turned seventeen on parchment, I had already accrued enough years to be in my early twenties. Fortunately for me, I aged well. Unfortunately for me, somehow Dumbledore managed to find out that I had received my mastery, and he was no longer content with the "simple" spell of having me be so very agreeable to Ronald. He believed my relationship with Severus distracted us from what he had decided was most important—ignoring the fact that he was training me to help Harry from the start—and he Obliviated us both to forget our time together."

"I had no one left then but Harry and Ron—and so we left on our quest. Everything happened as you recall until a just few months ago. Cracks in the spell were causing it to break down. I was starting to remember. And—unbeknownst to me—there was a time constraint on the spell. If I went for a few months without being touched by Ronald or any other Weasley family member, the spell became forfeit. After the war, I saw no one but Harry and Draco Malfoy. My work kept me away from just about everyone. Months passed, and the spell, finally, wore off."

"So, too, did the spell that prevented me from being able to go into St Mungo's. I was finally able to walk in and have a healer check me out, and they confirmed that my mind had been heavily tampered with. So, I went to the gala, talked to Dumbledore's portrait, and he— _it—_ ugh. Dumbledore informed me that it was all for the greater good. Harry had defeated Voldemort and survived. He was sorry, or so he said, but that made it all worth it. All—perfectly excusable. To him. He admitted he had put the geas on me. What he didn't admit, however, was Obliviating me of most of my memories of Severus. I didn't find out about that until the moment we first touched at the Shrieking Shack—and suddenly it all came flooding back."

"I suppose I've never really fit in," Hermione mused. "And when I finally found my place, where I truly _belonged_ , it was deemed too risky for me to remember." Hermione clenched her jaw and turned her head away.

"But why hide it?" Molly asked, confused.

Snape's eyes darkened. "He Obliviated us both when he found out she had earned her mastery. What makes you think he wouldn't have done far worse had we told anyone at any point before then?"

Molly clawed her fingers as she clutched at her head. "Dumbledore was the Leader of the Light—the creator of the Order of the Phoenix! Why would he _do_ something like that?"

Snape curled his lip. "Contrary to what most people believed, Albus Dumbledore was _not_ a shining beacon of purity and goodness. He may have claimed that all of his actions were for the greater good, but he was willing to do anything, sacrifice anyone. He frequently sent me off to do his dirty work—all for his precious cause. Do you have any idea how many people I "got rid of" for your shining figurehead of the Light?"

Molly wore a pained expression, the skin wrinkling around her eyes and mouth. "No, that's not true. It _can't_ be true!"

"Ever wonder why Hogwarts was so castrated that it couldn't even protect itself against all of the Dark magic swarming and gathering in its halls? Did you have any idea that half the ley lines in Hogwarts had wandered off long before that battle?"

"Ley lines, what?" Molly looked even more confused.

"She wouldn't know, Severus," Hermione said softly. "Most people can't sense them like we can."

Snape steepled his fingers together.

The floo came to life with a burst of green flames as a boogle of Weasleys came tumbling out. George, Arthur, Bill, Percy, and a man they hadn't seen before, dressed in the brown robes of an Auror spilt out of the green flames one after another, falling into an untidy pile of bodies.

"Knew we should have waited a little longer—Molly, are you alright?" Arthur's voice came from somewhere in the heap.

Molly rushed over to them. "Arthur, please tell me it isn't true. Tell me it's all a mistake!"

"It's not," Percy said, brushing off the Floo Powder from his robes. "Everything in the family vault is gone, mum, including that portrait of Desmond the Dangerous I had you save until I had a place to hang it."

"That was your graduation present," Molly moaned. "No, it couldn't be him!"

"The goblins said the wand checked out, and he looked just like me," Arthur said. "Since our vault isn't on the lower floors, we don't have the dispelling waterfall or any other expensive guardians on our vault. All they had was the visual and wand check."

"I tried to tell you to switch to one the new, more secure vaults," Bill said. "I begged you to. Especially after getting all that reward money from the end of the war."

Arthur, George, Percy, and Molly stared at Bill. "What money?"

Bill blinked. "The money you got for your roles in the war. Every family got a little to help rebuild their homes and such, but those who were in the Order—you have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"

"What are you talking about, bro?" George asked, totally confused.

Bill pinched his nose. "There was this huge thing down at the Ministry's War Restitution Office. Thanks to some fundraising and donations from several other countries, the Ministry awarded thousands of galleons to each family hit by the war, depending on the properties and all. Since all magical places had to be registered, they knew approximately what each family would need to rebuilt and they made it happen. I thought that was how you rebuilt this place. Hell—Fleur and I invested in expanding Shell Cottage so if we ever have kids—did _any_ of you get a share of the galleons?"

A round of blank stares was his only answer.

"Bloody hell," Bill groaned. "You would have received an owl. Everyone was supposed to get one. It was the only way they could make sure all of the potential recipients got the message. Hell, Hermione, you got one, yeah?"

"Multitudes."

"And you Sev— _ **SEVERUS**_?"

Severus held up a restraining hand. "Not now. One crisis at a time, if you please."

Bill just stared at him for a long moment and then shook his head. "I, uh—bloody hell." He ran his hands through his long red hair and tried to wipe the gobsmacked look off his face. "Hermione, you told them about it too, yeah?"

Hermione leveled a rather less than kind look at him. "I was informed in no certain terms that if I didn't marry Ron, I would no longer be welcome here. At the time, I had no reason to not believe Ronald when he said that."

"I said no such thing!" Molly protested, visibly appalled.

"And since all of the letters I owled to you went unanswered, I accepted it for what it appeared to be."

"We received no such letters!" Molly exclaimed.

"Hey, where's Ginny?" George wondered aloud. "Last I checked, she was still a Weasley."

"Just look at the new clock, yeah?" Percy said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "After all the money I put into getting it remade—it had better still be here."

George snapped his fingers. "Right. Be right back." He shuffled off into the next room. He came back a minute later with a pale face that made his red hair and freckles stand out even more.

"What's wrong now?" Percy sighed as he stared at a visibly shaken George.

"Um," George said, uncomfortably fussing with his collar. "Seems Gin's getting married at the moment… in some place called Las Vegas."

" _ **WHAT?!**_ " Molly shrieked as all the portraits fell off the walls with a resounding crash.

Percy dove for cover as he was almost brained by a flying yarn-ball and a pair of knitting needles. "I _knew_ I should have just ordered a normal clock."

As Molly's emotional magic caused a whirlwind of various household materials to go flying wildly about the room, Severus cleared his throat. "Excuse me, but if that clock can track any living Weasley family member, wouldn't it be prudent to quickly get that clock to Potter, Malfoy, and their fellow Aurors?"

Multiple ginger-haired Weasleys stared at Snape.

Snape narrowed his eyes. "Sometime today, if you please."

Narrowing his eyes as well, George quickly darted away to retrieve the clock in question.

"It says Ron's at the Gringott's branch in Bucharest." George announced when he returned.

"Bucharest? But, why would he be in Bucharest?" Molly's distress was growing by leaps and bounds, but so was her confusion.

Hermione's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Percy, what did you have done to that clock. It was never quite that detailed with your family's whereabouts before."

Molly was clinging to the clock like a child to a favourite toy under threat of being cast into the fire.

Percy looked uncomfortable since the Auror was silently taking the family drama in. "Mum was terribly upset she lost the old one. And I felt really bad about it after all the horrible things had I said. The Burrow was just a pile of ash. There was nothing left but family, so I had a new clock made, but much more detailed—"

"And I may have tinkered with it a bit," George said, staring down. "I tried to adjust it to make it funny, you know, to get a laugh when you looked at it, but it changed it a little—made it more detailed. Definitely less funny. Fred was always better when it came to tinkering with objects."

At the mention of Fred, Molly hugged the clock even tighter, and Arthur tried to comfort her while also trying to pry the clock out of her arms. "Come now, Molly, we need to give this to—Molly, please." Try as he might, Molly refused to give it up.

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably. "Sodding stalker clock is what that is," she whispered. "I'm glad I'm not a Weasley even more now. Can you imagine? Hermione is chewing on a random interloper in the DoM?"

Severus rubbed her shoulder awkwardly, his own face reflecting a certain disgust at the very thought of being traced at all times. "I am far more concerned," he replied, "of the implications that they have created an object that effectively spies on someone's every move just to placate a paranoid mother."

"You realise the implications of this?" Severus aid, loud enough that they could hear it. "Tracking a person's every move? If that sort of thing got out?"

"It won't," George said with a sigh. "I botched the spell I was trying to do. I got this tickle in my nose in the middle of trying to cast a spell that would warp whatever you were really doing into something funny. I sneezed like fifteen times sending the dials all over the place. Even if I could remember where all of them went, which I don't, I couldn't replicate the sneezy bits if I tried."

"You created a clock that does illegal tracking magic by accident?" the Auror said, reminding them all that there was the voice of law enforcement still there. "You could end up in front of the Wizengamot for that alone—just that you even tried! It's one thing to have the standard vague tracking magic they allow for family clocks, but you tampered with it. You made it—stalkerish!"

"I can't lose any more of my babies!" Molly wailed. "Never again. _**Never!**_ "

Arthur pulled the Auror over to the side. "Look, Auror Pembroke, you have to understand. After the war, she wouldn't eat. She wouldn't talk. She just wailed for days on end. Fred was gone, and we were all worried we'd lose Molly to grief. We had no home. We used up all of our savings to rebuild the Burrow, and had just barely enough to do it. That clock was the only thing that got her through it. Knowing where we were. Yeah, it's a little—disconcerting about how well it knows—but after it started being more specific, Molly snapped out of it. She carried it everywhere, but she was eating. I know we would have eventually lost her without that clock."

Pembroke sighed. "Look, Arthur. We've known each other for years, but you _know_ that kind of magic is banned for a very good reason. If someone found out about this—someone with say, interest in tracking people—it could bring out the people out with pitchforks and flaming torches threatening to burn people at the stake. And who could really blame them, yeah? We just fought two wars fighting for our personal freedom and safety—and you can't tell me that a bit of reassurance is anywhere near as important as _that._ "

Arthur closed his eyes. "Look, just—She really needs that clock. It took her a year before she wasn't _sleeping_ with the sodding thing, checking it every other minute. A year before she could put it on the wall and treat it like a clock—"

"Arthur, do you even _hear_ yourself? Didn't you think that maybe she should get some help from Mungo's? A proper mind healer. Grief counselling. Something? She's cuddling a clock, mate. A bloody clock—like a child. Your kids think is okay to give her a highly illegal clock as long as it makes her feel better. Screw what it means if someone finds out it's possible—Think about what You Know— _Voldemort_ would have done if he had one of those things. Or, if he knew it was even possible, what he would have done to you and your children to torture them with the intent of finding out how to make one for himself."

Arthur paled significantly.

"If she's been like this for what, two years now? What if it's affecting her heart? Dammit, man," Pembroke put his hand on his shoulder. "She needs to be checked out immediately. Something isn't right. What if she's under a curse?"

"She couldn't be under a curse. Albus scanned us once a week because Molly insisted—"

A low, twin growl came from the settee where Hermione and Severus were sitting. "You let him… _touch_ you? Once a week?"

"Well, at every Order meeting, after it that is," Arthur said. "Se—Severus?!"

Severus curled his lip, putting up a hand. "Later. Gasping and astonishment, disbelief, and misplaced anger later."

Arthur seemed torn between all of the above, and his fist clenched. " _ **You did something to her, didn't you?!**_ "

" _ **I will not have a Dark wizard in my house!**_ " Arthur yelled, his wand out, and a spell zinging before a shocked Auror Pembroke could even move.

Suddenly, Hermione was there, standing in the way, her warding summoned around her as a snarl pulled her lips back from her teeth in a very inhuman grimace. The curse partially bounced off the wards, causing the curtains to fall to the ground, a pan to fall off the rack, and a songbird that had been sitting on the bird feeder just outside the window to give a startled squawk before falling to the ground.

 _Drip. Drip. Drip._

Crimson droplets stained the wooden floor and a few locks of Snape's and Hermione's hair drifted to the ground where it the ward hadn't gone up quite fast enough.

"Arthur, get ahold of yourself! Those two outrank me!" Pembroke yelled, grabbing for his arm.

Hermione slammed her hand against Snape's, and a surge of power snapped into place between them. Purple energy glyphs floated in the air, overlaying golden ones. They spun, forming a complex diagram that glowed at their feet and then shimmered up in a barrier of energy.

As the energy in the magic circle touched Hermione's blood, it instantly became stronger—fiercer—and visibly more malevolent. Hermione's curls were writhing like angry snakes. Energy crackled between her fingers that, rather disturbingly, began to look more and more like claws. Fire burned within her previously calm brown eyes, and there was no mistaking the raw, uncontrolled anger magnified ten-fold by the casting of blood in her circle.

Suddenly, Bill hit his father with a stunner, forward tackling him to the floor. " _ **Drop your wands! EVERYONE drop your wands. Quickly!**_ "

Percy had his wand pointed at Hermione, and her gaze raked across the room, eyes noting who had wands and who didn't, who was actively struggling, and who wasn't. Her lips pulled back from her teeth.

"Percy drop the wand, now!" Bill hissed. "Or she's going to blow up the Burrow again!"

Percy looked from Bill and then back to Hermione—the raging, almost malevolent-looking Hermione—clearly not convinced that giving up his wand was the best course of action.

"Dammit, Percy!" George yelled, "Drop it already!"

"Severus, do something," Bill asked , his gaze leveling at the older wizard.

"What, exactly, would you have me do, Mr Weasley?"

"Something only her mate could do," he said meaningfully. "I've seen the same kind of behaviour in my Fleur. She almost leveled an entire restaurant because our waiter was stupid enough to call me a dirty werewolf."

Severus' eyes narrowed, but he nodded to Bill.

Severus touched Hermione's cheek, used his other hand to pull her around, and descended upon her mouth with a fierce kiss. The crackling energy around her instantly began to dissipate, and Snape's free hand traced a series of glyphs in the air to counter Hermione's wards.

Slowly, the wards began to fade, the energy level lessened, and the thick fog of pervasive anger began to lessen. Severus pulled away slow, but only just, his dark eyes searching Hermione's for that anchor of sanity he needed to see. Blood continued to drip onto the floor from where her arm had been slashed—yet one more scar to be added to her already impressive collection.

"Hermione," Severus said quietly, his black eyes searching hers.

"Lost it there," Hermione replied. "Sorry. I just saw that spell coming towards you and—that was a _really_ nice kiss."

Severus flushed. "Careful, you have several Weasleys watching you very closely."

Hermione, realising they weren't alone, blushed and turned around. "Sorry, I—"

"Don't apologise," Bill answered immediately as his family just gaped. "I've been married to Fleur long enough to know a mating bond when I see one, and all that entails. If someone had tried to attack Fleur, I'd have done the same thing, sans the fancy silent wards." He winked at her. "Besides—it was my father who tried to take Severus out, and I can't be the only one to think that kind of behaviour seems mighty suspicious. Between my mother cradling that clock like it's her baby, my brother cleaning us out of family funds, and my father suddenly being willing to throw slicing hexes and curses at you with barely a warning, something fishy is definitely going on here."

George was rubbing his head. "What's going on? Is this all connected somehow?"

Auror Pembroke sighed. "What nest of Ashwinders have we stepped in _this_ time?"

Bill watched his family carefully. "First things first. All of us need to go to Mungo's and get checked to look for any kind of insidious geas or evidence of mind-altering spells. Every last one of us, up to and including me. As the eldest Weasley who is not on the floor or otherwise mentally compromised, I give you permission to stun each and every one of us should we even attempt to resist."

" _ **What?!**_ " Percy stood up, his face matching the colour of his hair.

 _BSSTTZZT!_

Percy fell to the floor, and George handed Auror Pembroke his wand. "Sorry, Perce. Bill is right. Something seriously odd is going on, and I want to be sure I wasn't smoking Thestral dung when I screwed up that bloody clock. I will admit that the very idea of going to Mungo's is making me want to pull out my wand and fight. Be a mate and bind me up, would you?"

Hermione's tension ebbed. "You want me to tie you up?"

"Eh? Getting excited there, Granger? Not that you'd want that from anyone but tall, dark, and brooding, hrm?" George teased.

Hermione snorted. "Come here, I'll make absolutely sure you can't escape."

George sighed mournfully. "Why are the good ones always taken by the bad boys?"

"Oh, you _are_ a bad boy, George," Hermione confirmed with a smirk. "Just not my kind of bad."

George stuck out his lip, pouting as she bound his hands behind him with both nearby curtain cord and magical bindings. "I don't have enough black in my wardrobe to be _that_ kind of bad!"

"Poor you," Hermione said, smiling. "Thanks, George."

"Whatever for, Granger?"

"Always knowing how to make me smile—even when you're having a hard time doing it yourself."

George straightened and quirked a small smile. "Somebody has to, yeah? Hey, Bill, you feeling any effects?"

"No, but I didn't have much contact with other people once I started curse-breaking. Only Fleur—and you _know_ how everyone treated her. I had no reason to stick around."

George nodded rather shamefully.

"Before you go all blame-yourself, let's get everyone to Mungo's," Bill said, helping Auror Pembroke up. "I'll feel a lot better knowing what caused our mum to become a clock-hugger and our dad to try and murder someone right in front of us."

* * *

Hermione snuggled into Severus' robes as they sat together in the waiting room. Snape had one arm around her, pulling her against him, seemingly okay with both her presence and her closeness, even in public.

"What do you think, Severus?" she asked, slumping into his comforting warmth.

"I think we need a holiday," Severus said. "Preferably in some nice out of the way Muggle-owned wilderness area where we are far less likely to run into a boogle of Weasleys."

"I like that word, 'boogle'."

"Seems like an odd word for a group of weasels, and I suppose we could call them a confusion of Weasleys. They are that, most assuredly."

Hermione snorted softly in amusement. "I was never so angry before. Well, that's misleading. I've been angry before. I've been that angry before, but I've never been so quick to violence."

"Mr Weasley seems to think it was all on par for a mated pair," Severus muttered. "He may not be sure as to what species we are, but he's far too observant to think it a wholly human response."

"Why do you seem to stick with 'Mr' so-and-so instead of a given name?"

Snape rotated his head to loosen his neck muscles. "Using a first name implies a higher level of intimacy, of a certain... closeness."

Hermione burrowed a little closer to him.

"Are you—snuffling my robe?"

Hermione was silent.

"Her—"

"Yes."

"I see."

"It smells like you. I really, really like the scent of you."

Snape sighed. "As you wish. It is slightly disconcerting to have someone so openly appreciating anything about… me."

"It isn't like my feelings are a complete surprise to you, Severus," Hermione said, fussing with his robes.

"Perhaps not that you have them but that you retained them," Severus replied, turning to look into her eyes. His expression softened as his fingertips gently brushed her cheek.

"To be fair, I did forget them for a few years," Hermione admitted, her expression sad.

"Not by your own design, however."

Hermione smiled, touching his jaw with her fingertips. "Thank you for keeping me from murdering my childhood pseudo-family. I may not have ever felt truly at home with them, but they meant a great deal to Harry, and they did eventually grow on me. I just hope, at least I think, eugh. I just hope what I _think_ I feel is really what I feel."

"Healers didn't notice anything?"

"No, but that doesn't really comfort me considering everything else that's been going on."

Snape nodded.

The door opened and Head Auror John Savage walked out. He scanned the room and found Hermione and the solid wall of black fabric she was leaning on. "Ah, there you are. Kingsley told me to update you."

Hermione sat up. "What's the news, Auror Savage?" she asked.

"John, please," the wizard huffed. "If anything you outrank me, Master Granger."

"Argh. Hermione, please," Hermione replied. They laughed together in understanding. John, Severus. Severus, John. I'm not sure if you've met, officially."

"I've heard many things, Severus, pardon me. Would you prefer me call you—?"

"Severus is fine, Auror Savage."

"John. Please. Sometimes I think more people need to call me that so I remember what my given name is. Better than 'Hey Savage' and 'Boss'." Savage gave them a friendly grin but quickly sobered. "I'm afraid the Weasleys will be out of commission for a while—all but William Weasley. He seems to have dodged a curse in his case. Molly and Arthur, Percy, and George are all going to have to stay for a while and be de-cursed, un-hexed, brain bleached, and Merlin only knows what else the Healers have to do to make things right."

"What is the nature of the problem?" Snape asked.

Savage frowned. "Darndest thing. Seems to be some kind of compulsion geas. Molly seems to be obsessed with her family—knowing where they are at all times, specifically. Which is why she is driven to constantly check that strange clock. Nice and illegal that thing—Looking at going before the Wizengamot for that alone, if they aren't judged innocent due to being under the compulsion geas. That all depends on their healers and what they have to say about it in a month."

John rubbed his temples. "All of them, save William, are under something. Percy is it? Yes, Percy. He was under a strong "Believe all authority figures" compulsion, George had a—" He flipped through his notebook. "Ah, a recklessness and increased suggestibility geas, specifically tied to the other males of the family. Their whole family seems to be in the thick of one sort of insidious enchantment or another. I questioned William, thinking he may have done it—seeing as he's the only one that hasn't been affected, but he's clean. The spell signatures don't match."

"Potter and Malfoy brought in a drooling, semi-conscious Ronald Weasley just as the first scans were going through," John continued. "He had some sort of password-charmed Portkey with a trigger spell on it. He must have said the wrong password because, well, he's shades of Gilderoy Lockhart, if you catch my meaning. They found him along with a sack that had an undetectable extension charm on it, packed full of galleons and a few bottles of Polyjuice, or rather what was left of it. No idea where that Portkey was supposed to take him. Charles Weasley spoke with me, and he had one of those fancier vaults at Gringotts that magically records all activity that occurs within it when the door is opened or there is pressure on the tiles. Some sort of magic-Muggle strangeness that they started using—"

"Technomagery," Hermione said, her lips twitching.

Savage shrugged. "Strangery if you ask me," Savage replied. "The goblins handed me a small stick with buttons on it and said everything I needed was on there." He held it out. "I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with it."

Hermione reached over and touched a button. Instantly, a hologram of Ron inside a bank vault began to play.

"Maybe it was lemon drops. He always liked those. No. Maybe it was licorice whips. Chocolate frogs? Ice mice? Cockroach clusters? Tooth-flossing string mints? Drooble's best blowing gum? Wait, I think it was Fizz something! Oh! Fizzing Whizzbees. That _has_ to be it."

There was the sound of something heavy being dropped and a protracted rustling.

"Ah, so glad they gave me a Portkey. Well, here we go—Fizzing Whizzbees!"

 _Thud_.

The sound of Ron groaning came shortly after.

"Whoa, where am I? Wait, _who_ am I? Oh, this a vault! Is it my vault? It must be my vault, why else would I be in it. Hey, why is it empty?"

The sound of his foot hitting something heavy clanged in the recording, following by a trip and a fall. Then there was a low groan followed by several seconds of absolute silence.

Hermione reached to hit the button again, when suddenly there was a heavy metal creaking noise and the screech of the vault door being opened, followed by Harry and Draco's voices yelling, "Aurors! Freeze!"

" _Stai!_ Aurors! _Îngheţa!_ " several heavily-accented voices yelled at the same time.

Ron groaned again. "Oh, hello. Do I know you? I'm—well, I have no idea who I am. Who are _you_?"

" _Incarcerous,_ " Draco's voice said coldly.

" _Stupefy,_ " said Harry's at the same time.

Hermione clicked the device off as Savage scratched behind his ear idly.

"How the heck did you know how to use that thing?" John asked curiously.

Hermione smiled sweetly. "I made it and sold it to the goblins as a secondary security device."

Savage's jaw dropped in frank astonishment. "Is there anything you _can't_ do, Hermione?"

"I'm still working on perfecting the molten lava cake," Hermione confessed. "And I am still not quite sure about my Boeuf Bourguignon."

Savage slumped and shook his head. "Hermione, I have the feeling that even your failed attempts at both would beat my very best attempts."

"I make a stunning molten lava cake," Severus said with a sniff.

"This is why I love you, Severus," Hermione replied, not missing a beat.

Savage had the dubious honour or watching Snape's face flush a rather intriguing shade of red.

"Oh, I forgot. Kingsley sent you these. He told me if I lost them, he'd find a way to force me to listen to Proudfoot singing in the shower for the rest of my life." Savage handed them a bundle of black velvet.

Dual eyebrows lifted simultaneously.

"He's always hideously out of key," Savage explained with a visible shudder.

Hermione and Severus exchanged glances. They tugged on the cord on the bundle to expose two golden bangles done in high relief in the ancient Egyptian style. Deep azure scarabs grasped the shining disc of the sun and moon as inlaid wings curved to make the up the bangle.

"Whoa," Hermione whispered in awe. "They are so beautiful."

"Honour, fidelity—eternity," Severus said with an unmistakable tone of wonder in his voice. He picked up the parchment between them and unrolled it. "Seeing as the entire DoM knows you are a mated pair, you might as well have rings. Since rings are hardly sphinxly, much less practical, I give you appropriately themed bangles. May they serve you well." Severus flushed.

Hermione poked her head over his shoulder. "P. S. —Wear them on the left foreleg. You wouldn't want to give the wrong impression."

John Savage snickered into his sleeve. "Ah, Kings. He's always prepared for anything. Did I tell you about the time he broke in on me and Elena? He thrust his hand into the break room, magicked rings onto our fingers, and closed the door. He left a do not disturb sign on the handle of the door too. There was even a pile of cigars that I almost tripped over on the way out the door. I swear that man—he's utterly unflappable. I swear he runs the Department of Magically Bonded Marriage too, the way he seems to just… _know_. Oh, uh, I suppose congratulations are in order. Monsieur and Madam Snape."

Hermione and Severus turned red as they put on the bangles. They magically set themselves flush against their skin and shimmered, locking in place.

"Thanks, John," Hermione said, still looking a little pink.

"Look at the bright side. No more suitors lining up at the Ministry to try and get your home address."

Hermione shuddered.

"Oh, and this is for you too," John said. "Viktor dropped it off. He said—oh how did he put it. 'Tink you find dis interesting, Her-my-own'."

Hermione lifted a brow, snorting at John's faked Bulgarian accent, and took the parchment. "What the—it's a news clipping. Oh, it's Viktor catching the Snitch. Hah!"

Severus shook his head, pointing one pale finger at the moving picture. "I believe you should be focusing here, on the snogging couple almost half-starkers and covered in butterbeer."

"Oh my—"

"The mystery of where Miss Ginevra Weasley was last night is now solved," Severus noted, running the back of his hand across his nose. "Or rather—the mystery of to whom she was getting hitched to in Las Vegas earlier."

"Isn't that—oh Merlin, it is," Savage muttered. "That is none other than American heartthrob of the Deep South circuit, Bryan Lucas Studworthy. Big break up according to the gossip papers last month. We had some people watching over him because some witch from Austria wanted him dead for not acknowledging his alleged baby or some other such drama. Some rebound. Marriage you say? You sure?"

"If the clock is to be believed," Severus said. "Or she snogged this man and went and married someone else in less than forty eight hours."

John closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten.

"Mrs Ginevra Molly Studworthy—good gracious gods above and below," Hermione said, twitching. "If Molly ever releases her death-grip on that clock, she's so going to murder her only girl-child."

"You've been spending too much time with Mavin," Savage chuckled. "She uses that term all the time, saying she's going to murder her girl-child and feed her to the crows."

"To be fair, her daughter is pretty horrible," Hermione commented. "It was only because of Kingsley's timely intervention that she didn't get," Hermione trailed off.

"Eaten?" Savage prompted.

Hermione smiled innocently. "Maybe?"

"You'd need some serious tabasco or sriracha sauce to go with that meal—maybe some of Madam Spicy's Magical Pepper Sauce."

"Well, I appreciate you not eating one of my better Aurors' daughters," Savage sighed. "Even if she did deserve it. What the hell was Trudy doing down in the bowels of the DoM vaults anyway?"

"Proving that the rumours were just a bunch of tall tales and that they really didn't have a dragon guarding the under-vaults. To be fair, Augustine wasn't on duty that night."

"Small favours there," Savage said. "He likes to char the bodies and then leave them to hang for a week. For 'peak flavour', he says."

"Barbarian," Hermione hissed.

"People seem to think that being Head Auror gives me access to all of the most exciting Ministry secrets, but I don't think anyone really expects the sort of things I am privy to. I have a drawer of various oddball permits: License to Riddle and Devour, License to Flambé and Season Before Eating, and License to Spontaneously Combust—Madam LeFlamme's phoenix form has set so many things on fire. She came up with that super secret special tenderizing spice rub for Augustine—he apparently adores the stuff and uses it on everything, including his human prey.

"Rumour says he uses it in the shower too," Hermione said, her eyes sliding sideways.

Savage stared at her for a long moment. "Could have gone my whole life not knowing that. Thanks ever so much, Gran—Snape—ah hell, Hermione."

"Been saying for you to just call me Hermione for a long time now," Hermione chuckled.

"Will the Weasleys eventually recover from all this?" Hermione asked, changing the subject.

"Healers seem to think so, but it will be a slow process," Savage replied. "However, Ronald may not be so lucky. He's been admitted to Janus Thickey. He and that Lockhart oddity are apparently already best mates."

Hermione looked rather horrified. "Well, I guess that's a different sort of torture."

"Get anything out of him?" Severus asked.

"Nothing that wasn't on the recording device—which reminds me, I should take it to the office to be combed over. After that we'll go through what we can tell you and what we can't due to privacy concerns and all that rigamarole, since you're in that odd grey area between official and victim."

Hermione sighed. "I think my entire life has been a grey area between rule follower and victim."

Savage had a thoughtful look on his face. "Severus, you really like Hermione? I hadn't pegged you for a riddling man-eater, to be honest. I mean, there were the stories from the DoM, Kingsley gave us the sphinx-handling lectures, and all that stuff, but—wow, two of you!"

Severus made an odd expression, "I haven't eaten anyone."

"Yet?"

"So far."

"Give it a month or two. Stupidity breeds in a vacuum," Savage said. "Though, we'd all appreciate if you didn't eat Trudy, despite how much she desperately deserves it. Her mother is a real gem and does the work of fifteen Aurors. She obviously got all the genetic perks and kept them close to her. I think Trudy inherited everything from her berk of a father."

"I will," Severus said, "attempt to keep myself from gnawing on this—Trudy. Provided, of course, she introduces herself."

"Can't miss her," Savage said. "She wears this bright, glowing, blaze orange collar that has "Trudy" emblazoned on it."

Severus looked at Hermione.

"Don't look at me!" Hermione replied.

John shook his head. "She bought it from a Muggle shop and in her infinite wisdom, used the permanent sticking charm on the buckle so her mum couldn't take it off. Kids."

"Can't say I ever had that desire, John, even when I was a kid." Hermione raised her brows and tapped her fingers on her chin.

"So, before I take this back to the office, do either of you have any idea who could have instigated all of this mess on the Weasley family?"

"In a word?" Hermione said.

"Dumbledore," Severus finished.

Savage rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Pity the man isn't alive to be prosecuted," he said after a while. "We can't even question the portraits because you only put into the portraits what you want people to know—also punishing a portrait seems a bit anti-climactic. Hermione, it seems that you've been shaking off the spell Dumbledore put on you. Severus, you as well. Yet, the Weasleys are definitely not going to be able to shake it off all on their own."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "Severus shoved my memories away using blocks so the Obliviate couldn't take root, shortly before Dumbledore Obliviated _him_."

"But, how does he remember anything now?"

Hermione and Severus exchanged looks.

"When I started training Hermione, I copied my memories meticulously each night, then I reviewed them in the morning to see what I had forgotten," Severus said. "When I realised that I was starting to forget more than just random little things, I began to write a journal of all I had taught Hermione and squirreled away those memories. When I woke up one morning, remembered nothing—I left notes for myself you see, in odd places only I would know—and I didn't remember at first to check me memories, I realised that Hermione had forgotten about me. Completely. She retained spell knowledge, but nothing about our partnership. I notated the journal of spells, suppressed all of my memories of her behind blocks—safe from Obliviates—and then gave her the journal. Then, I Obliviated what I had done from myself, so anyone attempting to search my mind couldn't—wouldn't—know.

Snape furrowed his eyebrows together. "I wasn't until the ley lines released me from their embrace that I began to remember. Only one thing could have released the blocks: the war was over and Hermione was still alive. As for Hermione's—I do now know for certain."

"The sphinxlets!" Hermione said suddenly, causing both wizards to look at her strangely.

"Every time a sphinx meets a ley line, we create sphinxlets," Hermione explained. "I've been trying to figure out what that was for years now. Every time they manifested, they would hang around and then wander off. Until that night I met Severus. One of them fused to him—and he instantly began to remember. What if those sphinxlets aren't just energy—what if they are a part of the ley line memories? What if the ley lines ARE memories? Our memories, Severus. All sphinxes. Everywhere."

"So, our meeting with a ley line, what?" Severus asked. "Spawns copies?"

Hermione nodded. "I've been trying to figure out how ley lines all over the world seem to know me before I even show up. What if it's because of the sphinxlets. They spawn, and then they go merge without another ley line somewhere else, passing on the memory stream—preserving it. And now that you're a full sphinx—no one can ever take your memories again."

"Because every time I'd meet a leyline, it would remind me—it would _know_."

Hermione nodded.

"Lost here," Savage confessed.

Hermione grinned from ear-to-ear and swirled around Auror Savage. "That's okay, do you like stories?" She wiggled her eyebrows. "There is an excellent café a block away with fantastic pastries and comfy chairs!"

She grabbed Auror Savage by the sleeve and dragged him off as he sputtered, Severus following behind in a swirl of black cloth.

* * *

"Hrrr."

"Sever—meep!" Hermione squeaked as Severus latched onto her neck with a soft, rolling growl.

"Yes, wife?" he replied, working on the sensitive lobe of her ear.

Hermione's hand clutched at a handful of his robes and dragged him down onto the silk sheets—sheets that were a suspicious shade of Slytherin.

"Either you've been hiding a closet fascination with Slytherin, my wife, or Draco decided to gift you with suitable bedroom accessories."

Hermione could barely answer, her breathing was coming in soft gasps as he grasped the skin of her neck between his teeth and laved her skin with his tongue. " _Eergghffff—_ "

"Hrm? What? You want me to stop?"

Hermione hissed, pulling his face down so she could kiss him properly, holding his hair with her hands as her legs wrapped around his back and levered him down. They rolled on the silk sheets as Severus shot his arm out to brace them so they wouldn't go sliding off it in a very undignified manner. His eyes locked with hers with a darkness moving across them—hunger, need, and something primal.

Still, even so, he braced himself, pressing his arms beside her to cage her in. "Hermione," he rumbled. "I. Want. You." Despite his want, and despite he desire, he wrestled with his control. There was a pain in his expression—disappointment.

"Severus?" Hermione touched his face, concerned.

"I wish you could have been the one—my first, my only," Severus admitted softly, turning his head away. "I would be lying. There are things that were not among the memories I gave to Potter, though," Severus trailed off with a self-conscious cough. "I would have enjoyed seeing his face—"

Severus stroked Hermione's hair back from her face. "The reason I took Lily's lack of forgiveness so hard was that, for a time, I thought she was the one. I thought there could be no other, so beautiful, so magical. And when she chose to lay with me, I thought my every prayer had been answered. I—naively thought—that physical closeness, the intimate touch of skin against skin, was an expression of her love for me. I believed it because I truly believed that was what she meant by it."

Severus closed his eyes. "I was such a pathetic fool. After a few couplings, I thought it time to start saving for a ring, and then I heard her talking with her vapid little friend Marlene McKinnon, asking her how good I was. Was my cock big enough, long enough. Did it please her, did I make her come? She just smirked and said McKinnon owed her ten galleons. As I watched Lily pocket her money, I suddenly realised that what I had believed was not the truth at all. Looking back, Lily had never once promised me anything. I had—stupidly misread her intentions."

"She came to me that night, expecting more of the same, but I just couldn't—" Severus balled his hands into fists. "I couldn't even fake it—I couldn't bring myself to use her like she had obviously been using me. I was just a boy in love— with an idea, a dream."

Hermione's gentle touch on his cheek startled him as she tenderly drew his head up, encouraging him to look at her. "I wish I could that was abnormal behaviour for young witches, but I know first hand that it is not. Not every witch, thank the gods, but I heard Lavender and Pavarti talking enough to know speculating on boys and their parts was not exactly atypical. My first time was in a tent in the wilderness—desperate, clawing, pounding. I didn't know it wasn't about love. I thought, maybe, this is what love was—letting him attain that release. A gift, right? He had to love me. Surely he did if he could get it up, yeah? There had to be at least _some_ attraction."

"I didn't know," Hermione said, pained. "I—didn't remember you, Severus. I didn't remember what I was waiting for. I couldn't remember why it mattered anymore. Clinging to life in the middle of nowhere. Tomorrow was just another chance to die. He said he loved me, and I truly believed him."

"Viktor was a kind and gentle lover," Hermione said softly. "After the war, he taught me that it wasn't all about him getting off. He helped me. There was a genuine love between us, but it wasn't the kind of love that has you picking out curtains together. He knew that. I knew that. But, for a time, we were happy and content that at least no one else would be asking while we were together. I knew he was still searching for the one. It was because of him that I finally cut ties with Ron. I realised I didn't have to settle. And if it hadn't been for him, enough time wouldn't have passed between touches of the Weasley clan. The spell was broken. I realised I had never loved him. I had never needed him."

"Remind me to get Viktor a care basket," Severus said, touching her cheek and wiping away the tear that was trailing down her face. She laughed as he pressed his forehead to hers.

"This _**is**_ real, Severus," Hermione said. "I want you inside, burning, eating me from within. I want to be close to you. I do not care that I was not your first. I kind of want to dig Lily up and hex her to death—again—but it does not matter how you got here to me. What matters is that I am enough for you in this moment, tomorrow, or two hundred and twenty years from now. Not because some magical bond declared us married. I want you, I need you, but if I am not enough—I would be an adult. I would understand. It would hurt, but I would know the truth. That is more than what most would give me— _ **MRPFH!**_ "

His kiss cut off what she was going to say, a low, growl rumbling in his throat, and his tongue eagerly explored her mouth—both asking and demanding at the same time. He pulled away with difficulty. "Hermione, you are all I want. You are everything I have ever wanted, though it took me a long time to realise it, and even when I did, I turned from it in fear, thinking myself a fool. It was a dream of my youth that I would find love and it would make all that suffering worthwhile, only—had I been a mature sort, I would have realised that what I wanted didn't necessarily have to arrive while I was at Hogwarts."

"Technically, we _did_ meet at Hogwarts," Hermione said, a small smile on her lips.

Severus growled lowly, his hands moving up to pin her wrists against the headboard. "Technically, we are on a very comfortable bed—talking."

Pure mischief danced in Hermione's eyes. "What are you saying, Severus? Would you rather be— _ **oh holy Merlin, GAH!**_ "

Severus released his mouth from her breast and growled. "I would far rather show my mate there are better things to be doing in this situation than talking and spilling our past pain and guilt over each other like pouring custard over a crumble."

"Hrm, can't say I've ever been into food pla— _ **MPH!**_ "

Severus covered her mouth as one hand roamed down her body, sliding down her half-open robes. He released her just long enough to evict the robes from her body, and attached himself to her neck, moving down it to tease her breast and work lower, inch by inch.

Hermione groaned, writhing as her body tried to figure out what it wanted, seemingly conflicted between multiple intense desires. "Severus," she moaned. " _Please_."

"Please what?" Severus purred as his hot breath tickled her ear. His tongue flicked out to lick her earlobe.

" _Ngggh_!" Hermione gasped. "Please—I need—"

"Hmmm," he murmured, his hand traveling lower, pressing between her legs. "What was that?"

Suddenly, her hand broke free from his hand, and she slid it down his body, seeking something lower. She cupped him with her hand and hissed, "This, right now. Inside me!"

Severus' eyes crossed a little at the unexpected surge of pleasure, and he instantly rose to the occasion—very interested, indeed. Had there been any doubt at all that he was aroused, it was no longer on the table.

Hermione was panting, whimpering, writhing against him, and his eyes darkened in desire, his own breathing coming in shorter, needful pants. He couldn't stop touching her. He touched her everywhere, stroking her hair, kissing her skin, licking her smooth skin as he positioned himself over her. Their mouths met as he thrust, and she took him in. Their tongues warred together, trying to fuse as he buried himself within her, giving out a low cry of desperate need. Her legs locked around him as her hips repositioned, and her back arched, meeting his thrusts with her own. She clawed at his back, leaving pink welts across his exposed skin, his dark robes having disappeared—somewhere—without a sound.

Severus halted his attention, groaning as Hermione had made like a leech onto his neck, sending tiny thrills of ecstasy down his spine in a growing current of overwhelming pleasure. He forced himself to slow his pace, watching Hermione's flushed face as she panted. Her fingers were entangled in his hair, rubbing his scalp in just the right places— tugging at his hair in just the right way. He watched her closely, waiting until just the right moment.

"Severus!"

He thrust into her with abandon, each one sending shockwaves through his body. The leys were gathering, and he felt them— waiting, waiting for something. Suddenly, Hermione spasmed around him, and he cried out as he emptied inside her, her body clamping around him like a trap. He spasmed, his mouth clamping on her neck as his teeth pressed firmly into her skin. The unexpected sensation sent Hermione bucking wildly against him, and he was lost, unable to fight the waves of rightness overwriting every misstep he had ever taken in his life.

The leylines sang.

He could hear them—a chorus of celestial voices whose very words were magic, power, and primordial. There was the roar of sphinxes— here and now, then, and later. The surges of arcing energy passed through them with a great vibration as their voices screamed together in a joint roar as their passion erupted together in a flood of raw, untamed energy.

Hundreds of energy sphinxlets zinged around the room, swirling, darting, and flying about before escaping out the open window. As they collapsed against each other, his arms locked around her waist as his face pressed into her wild, writhing curls, a new ley line sang itself into existence— its new voice like the clarion bell ringing within a deep, dark cavern.

They lay there, entwined and unmoving, breathing heavily.

"Severus," Hermione purred, pulling his arms around herself.

"Hn?"

"I will admit to being glad she didn't know a good thing when it bit her on the face. I will apologise in advance in case that makes me a horrible person."

"Then you will be _my_ horrible person," Severus rumbled, kissing her neck.

"I can live with that," Hermione purred. "Mrrrrrrrr."

Severus tongue laved at her neck like a cat's, having taken on some of the more sphinxian characteristics. "Hrm."

"Hrm?"

"I seem to have left you a rather dashing mark on your neck. A scarab ankh, if I recall my Egyptian symbols correctly."

Hermione wriggled to turn over so she could face him and pulled his head down so she could look at his neck in return. There, where she had bitten him in the height of her passion, was a scarab with its wings spread in a circle like the sun. An ankh hung between the wings. "Wow. You have one too."

"Apparently we have upgraded our respective hickies," Severus mused.

Hermione snuggled into his chest. "I like them. Kingsley will be all over them."

"Not while we are in bed, wife!"

"I think he's a little more respectable than that, Severus."

"Hn, better be," he muttered.

Hermione's eyes closed slowly as she sighed against him. "I've missed you. I've missed you for my entire life and never knew it until now."

Severus kissed her forehead. "I have waited my entire life for you, and for the first time, I realise it was worth every single minute, every mistake, every heartbreak— as long as it lead me to you."

Hermione thunked her head against his chest, sniffling. "You're such a sodding romantic!"

"Psh."

"But you're _my_ sodding romantic."

"I suppose that is acceptable."

"You know what would also be acceptable?"

"Hn?"

Hermione's hand crept lower on his body.

Severus' eyes grew wide, and he rolled her onto her back once more and descended upon her mouth with his as his hands went walkabout across her body.

The sound of a Portkey transport rang from the next room accompanied by multiple feet hit the floor.

Severus froze, his lip curling in disdain. "I swear to Merlin. We are going to be the most interrupted married couple this side of Wizarding Britain."

Hermione pressed her fingers to his mouth and whispered, "Severus, where are your clothes?"

* * *

"I'm going to tear his portrait to shreds!" Minerva yelled, trying to get up from the bed.

"Oh no, you don't!" Poppy sternly told her patient, pushing her back down with two fingers and a tiny bit of magic. "It's bad enough you didn't want to go to Mungo's, so I brought Healer Faulkner here to visit you!"

Minerva seethed, but when the healer gently pressed his fingers across her face, she let out a soft sigh of relief as the strange angry pressure finally eased. "Oh," Minerva whispered. "I don't know what you did, but suddenly I feel so much better."

"You are under a very strong geas, Headmistress McGonagall. The other healers must have missed it when they were checking your memories." Healer Faulkner informed her. "Now please be still as I work on it."

Minerva sighed and sulked, cat-like, as she was prone to do.

Healer Faulkner leaned over to whisper something to Pomfrey, his face dire. Poppy nodded in return. "Headmistress, you are going to have to trust me."

Minerva's brows knit together. "Okay?"

Faulkner held out a hand, taking Poppy's hand in the other.

Slowly, Minerva put her hand in his, just barely feeling the cold kiss of something in his hand and the familiar tug at her navel.

 _FFWWOOOLLP!_

Minerva landed on her feet, but only barely as Healer Faulkner and Poppy stepped away. She found herself in a lovely stone cottage. Sun came in through the open windows as a breeze blew in—salty sea air permeated the room.

"I swear to Merlin," a rather distinctive annoyed baritone voice hissed. "We are going to be the most interrupted married couple this side of Wizarding Britain."

Hermione stepped in from an adjoining room, her robes a little disheveled. "Healer Faulkner! Hello! Madam Pomfrey! Oh! Minerva!"

A tall, dark shadow took up the doorway. "Had I known you were going to drop in, I would have made more tea," Severus rumbled, his long, pale fingers drumming against the doorframe as his eyes narrowed.

"You were right, Severus," Healer Faulkner said with a nod, dropping a small disc into his hand. "There was a very strong compulsion geas on her on top of being obliviated. Quite extensively, I might add."

Minerva, who was ignoring the healers, gaped at Severus, her mouth working but no sound came out but a soft, confused meow-like noise. She staggered forward, wrapping her arms around Severus and squeezing the stuffing out of him.

Severus grunted, his hand awkwardly touching Minerva's hair in some semblance of a half-comforting pat. He stared at Hermione, looking awkward and desperate.

"Give her a moment, Severus," Hermione chortled. "She thought you were dead, and the last time she saw you, she tried to kill you with fire."

Severus squared his shoulders and petted Minerva on the head as one would a cat. "Hello, Minerva."

"Severus Tobias Snape!" Minerva wailed. "Where have you been? Why didn't you _tell_ me! Would it have been too much trouble to send a bloody owl?" She sputtered a chain of questions non-stop.

Severus let her run at the mouth for a minute before he took two fingers and placed them over her mouth. "Minerva, if you expect an answer, I would suggest you breathe between accusatory disbelieving questions."

"I heard after—I realised when Potter told us all what you had done," Minerva said, her eyes shimmering with tears. "I realised I'd terribly misjudged you—I tried to kill—"

Severus shook his head and sighed. "It was not anything you were not _supposed_ to think, Minerva."

"I could have killed you!" Minerva insisted tearfully.

"No," Severus said smugly. "You would have _tried_."

Minerva wiped her eyes and sputtered, "You arrogant, foolish, irritating boy!" She hugged Severus again, so hard that he had to brace himself against the wall.

"Can't breathe, Minerva!"

"Serves your right, you big sodding idiot," she muttered into his chest.

Hermione, who was watching everything, covered her face with her hand to avoid giving away all of her amusement at once. She waved her hand, summoning the tea service even as her stealthy house-elf popped in, dropped in a platter of biscuits and assorted _hors d'oeuvres_. Hermione shook her head in resigned amusement as the house-elf grinned at her and popped back out.

"Why is it my mate almost levels the Burrow to defend my person from a rampaging boogle of Weasleys, but when I'm under attack by a large, overgrown tabby cat, she just calmly sips tea and watches?" Severus muttered, sending a glare towards Hermione.

"Perhaps, she knows this was a long time coming and that you will undoubtedly survive being hugged by a silver tabby Animagus versus being cursed to death a year from now had you not told her you were alive!"

Severus glowered at Hermione, and Hermione crossed her hands and stuck her tongue out at him.

"Mature," Severus said with a derisive sniff.

"Someone had to be," Hermione retorted. "I tried to send her an owl, and you burned my letter."

"I was simply postponing the inevitable," Severus argued. Then, a little more quietly, he said, "We hadn't had a nice patch of alone time since—" He cut himself off, steeling his self-control.

Hermione blinked and then flushed. "Oh, erm, how about we all sit down and have tea and _hors d'oeuvres._ " She thrust tea and biscuits into Poppy and Faulkner's hands and sat them down on the nearby armchairs.

Hermione tugged at her Usekh collar and sighed. "Minerva, the reason we brought you here is because we don't trust anything to be said or done at Hogwarts."

"What?" Minerva asked, sipping her tea. "Why?"

"Healer Faulkner had to remove the geas from you and then get you out of there to talk. There are no portraits here," Hermione said, nodding to Faulkner in thanks. "Nothing gets in here without our express permission."

"Is this?" Minerva looked around more closely. "Is this _your_ home?"

Hermione nodded.

"I suspect that Hogwarts is full of little painted spies, Minerva," Severus said grimly. We could not send mail—which is the true reason for my having burned Hermione's correspondence—and we could not tell you about me until we were sure you were free of Hogwarts."

"But, Severus, why?" Minerva asked. "Hogwarts is peaceful."

Severus shook his head. "Hermione told me that she came to visit you and talk to Albus' portrait the night of the gala."

Minerva nodded affirmative.

"She said something that bothered me," Severus said. "She said the portrait became uncomfortable answering questions, and that you had to order the portrait to answer, and even then, the answers were not complete. Now, a normal person would have just thought this was because the portrait wasn't told something and thus had nothing to share, but why look uncomfortable, Minerva? Why look—anything but matter of fact? Even Phineas Black answers questions when posed by the Headmaster. He complains, but he answers. Why look nervous?"

"But what does that mean, Severus?" Minerva asked. "Why bring me out here?"

Poppy seemed to realise what wasn't being said. "You think that it isn't just Dumbledore's portrait that is compromised."

Hermione nodded. "No, I think that a lot of things that went on while I was at Hogwarts is still going on. The Weasleys have all, well sans Bill, come down with some pretty serious problems. Kingsley gave us permission to include you and Poppy because Poppy has been clear of tampering, and you have been released from the geas."

"What _was_ this geas, Hermione?" Minerva asked worriedly.

"The very thought of going to St Mungo's made you want to be somewhere else, didn't it? A powerful, inexplicable desire not to go? Yet, I'm betting if it was just to go to the Hogwarts infirmary, there wasn't an issue."

Minerva frowned. "Why?"

Hermione closed her eyes. "Tell me, Minerva. Do you even _remember_ teaching me to become an Animagus?"

"Don't be silly. I'd certainly remember something like that!" Minerva scoffed.

"But you don't," Hermione said sadly. "And I am willing to bet my two date palms outside that you don't remember that Severus and I were master and apprentice for most of my Hogwarts career."

" _What_?" Minerva gasped.

Severus rubbed his chin. "You probably don't remember teaching me to be an Animagus either. Or the countless times I hid in your office to avoid a gang of Gryffindors."

Minerva frowned. "Why would I not remember this?"

Severus shook his head. "You had help."

"But why, Severus?" Minerva said, pulling on her fingers in a fretful gesture. "What would that serve?"

"In the beginning, it was to prevent me from having any allies," Severus said. "It was to cover up what I had become. It was also to cover up the sins we all had— the fights, the hexes, the curses. It was almost a given that a Slytherin would do such things. But a Gryffindor? No. Heroes had to be kept shining examples of the Light. Avatars for Albus' much-vaunted greater good."

Minerva rubbed her temples.

Healer Faulkner placed a hand on her shoulder. "You may never get all of the memories back, Headmistress. There were no blocks in place to prevent the Obliviate from taking whatever he might have wanted to take from you."

Severus placed a few vials on the nearby table. Shimmering memories flickered within. "Hermione and I have compiled our memories between us— all of our memories that included you. They may not be your memories, Minerva, but they are something you once shared with us. It is _something_."

Minerva reached out to the vials and paused. "Albus did this?"

Severus set down his teacup and nodded. "Yes."

"Why? Why rob me of perfectly normal memories?"

"Perhaps, when you view these memories, you may see something we do not," Hermione said. "There might be something he left you— just enough to remember _why_."

Minerva frowned, but her hand clasped the vials of memories. "I'll need a Pensieve."


	3. Chapter 3 Sphinx For the Memories

**A/N:** The conclusion! YAY!

 **Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01 **,**** and Commander Shepherd, who shall never find his game controller until he shares his dinner recipes! MUAHAHAHAHA!

 **Chapter 3: Sphinx For the Memories**

* * *

"How is she doing?" Poppy asked as Healer Faulkner came out of the other room.

"Resting," he replied kindly. "It will take some time to process. I have— tried an experiment."

Three sets of curious eyes descended upon the Healer.

Faulkner held up his hand. "Peace, nothing bad. I tried running a scan on her while she was in her Animagus form, and I think— the key to her remembering is locked in the Animagus form. Cat brain versus human brain. While the memories the same, they are stored differently, entwined with scent and sensation. It is possible, triggering a familiar— or should be familiar— scent and sensation, will release those memories to her human self. I will try more when she is done watching your memories. There must be something there first to encourage the remembering. In cases such as the Longbottoms— they were forced to remember after being Obliviated— perhaps in the hopes that in remembering they would say things out loud, as many do. But, since there were no memories of something familiar left to them— and no anchor— all they had was torture."

"I wasn't aware you were working with the Longbottoms," Hermione said. "I should have guessed, considering your work with mind-healing."

Faulkner smiled. "There isn't a single mind-healer alive that hasn't thrown themselves at the Longbottoms, and all of them have only momentary success at best. They had no anchors but each other. The son was too young to have memories to serve as an anchor. His emotions were too young, too unformed, to create one. Even now— as much as he may think he wants them back, he cannot call them back with his image of how they truly were, only what he things they were."

Poppy shook her head. "They were good people. I remember them being so fond of each other. One or the other would always try and protect the other. One would end up under my care, and the other would sit vigil. Some days it was Frank. Some days it was Alice."

"Obliviation aside," Faulkner said, "Madam Lestrange certainly didn't help by extensively torturing them with Crucio on top of it all. There are more than Longbottoms in the ward— many victims of her horrifying version of 'fun'."

Severus curled his lip. "Bellatrix was not known for her patience or her kindness. Neither of the Longbottoms ever had a chance. Rumour had it that she cursed her husband while they were still in school, forcing him to marry her in a nice Pureblood marriage befitting a Black. No one truly wanted to marry her. Even then, she was patently unstable. And even in marriage, her lust for the Dark Lord in body and power was far too obvious, even to Rodolphus, but by the time the truth became so clear, they had already been bound and warped by the Dark."

"I never had the displeasure of knowing her," Faulkner confessed. "Of this I can be only grateful."

"She did love her Crucio," Hermione said, her hand drifting to her arm where "Mudblood" was carved into it, "and her other choice forms of torture." Hermione ran her fingers across the scar and frowned, taking a moment to look at it. "Strange. It seems somewhat lighter and almost blurry around the edges now. Not like it was originally. Red, jagged and ugly."

"It was a cursed blade, yes?" Faulkner asked, gesturing at her to let him look, which she did. He ran his hands over the carved scar, his eyes unfocused as he looked beyond it. "The curse is fading, Hermione. Unmistakably so."

"At the risk of sounding like a moron, is that possible?" Hermione asked. "Everything Healer Penwhistle told me after the war was that all chance of healing the scar was gone since so much time had passed without being tended."

Faulkner shook his head. "Healer Penwhistle is a great man and a marvelous healer, but he is not a specialist in cursed wounds. His expertise lies in diseases of the blood. Cursed wounds can be healed long after, if another injury spurs on healing in the same area."

Severus touched Hermione's arm. "Arthur Weasley's slicing hex."

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh— I'd already forgotten all about it."

"There is more to it," Faulkner said. "My sight can see the writhing of strong magic under your skin. Something life-changing has happened to you. Something powerful has imprinted itself upon your soul."

Severus was uncannily still. "Would giving birth to a ley line count?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, skip over marriage entirely and get right to the crazy?"

"Crazy, perhaps," Severus stated calmly, "but true."

"You did _what_?" Poppy gasped.

Hermione and Severus instantly turned away from each other, flushing.

"Severus?" Poppy asked, using her practiced you-better-tell-me voice.

Severus twitched, his tufted, pointed ears flicking out of his black hair and then flattening against his head. "We are a mated pair, Poppy. It was perfectly natural."

"You're Animagi!" Faulkner exclaimed.

Hermione and Severus flattened their ears back against their skulls, unable to restrain the instinct.

"Erm, yes?" Hermione said tentatively.

"And Minerva— _she_ taught you?"

"Yes—?"

The elder Healer grabbed the pair by the wrist and dragged them with him towards the room he had Minerva resting by herself. "You need to come with me right now!"

Poppy sat in the now empty living room, sipping her tea. "Well then, I think I'm going outside to pick some dates."

* * *

 ** _PurrrpurrrrBONK._**

 ** _. BONK._**

"Gah, kindly release my face from your attentions, Minerva!" Severus moaned as the silver tabby purred, rubbed, turned around, and purr-rubbed all over again.

 ** _.PURRRRRRR. Bonk._**

"It's useless, Severus, you might as well let her get it out of her system," Hermione chuckled. Her fur was half-silver thanks to the enthusiastic attentions of one silver tabby Animagus. "I have enough fur here to knit myself a second Minerva."

"Arrrr!" Severus complained, and then instinct kicked in and he slurped Minerva over, knocking her arse over kettle, with his huge, raspy sphinx tongue.

 ** _PUrrRRRRrrrRRRRrrRRRR!_**

"Now you've done it," Hermione chuckled, sprawling out on the warm sand. "I'll have to go spend time with Kingsley because you're going to have your paws full with Minerva for the next month."

Severus used his massive front paw to pin Minerva down and bury her in the sand before bounding over to Hermione and tackling her in the sand. Hermione roared in protest and they chased each other around the simulated oasis, kicking up sand as they went.

Severus tried to trip Hermione up, but she was more experienced in her sphinx form, and she dodged, sending her mate tumbling into the oasis water. He came up sputtering, and Hermione pounced, using her wings to speed her descent, and she tackled him, sending him rolling across the beach, roaring. They tumbled and flopped together, panting, tongues lolling as they rolled onto their sides in a tired heap.

 ** _PurrrBONK. PURrrRRRrrrrr._**

Minerva was back.

Hermione curved her paw around Minerva and yoinked her close, pressing her face into Minerva's fur.

"Severus?"

"Hn?"

"Dumbledore could have tried to Obliviate me as well— take away my memories of my Animagus form, but he didn't. Why?"

"Maybe, as you said, the ley lines protected your memories. He could have, but then the next time you ran into a ley line, it restored them," Severus mused. "Or—"

Severus frowned. "Or he fully intended to allow you to protect Potter in every way possible."

"I tore the Snatchers to shreds, Severus."

"And Potter is alive because of it."

"You think— he Obliviated my knowledge of you but not my spell knowledge because he wanted me to know those things to protect Harry? But not remember you?"

"I think that is exactly what he did," Severus replied.

"But why remove the memories from you?"

"I was needed— bitter and alone. You were needed— convinced that Weasley was worth saving and Potter as your main existence. Think a moment— had you known that there was someone waiting for you, who cared for you, would you have allowed the farce to go on with Weasley? Would you have been content with roughing it out in a tent for a year— never once contacting anyone? What would you have done, had your parents not been killed in that accident? Would have have stood idly by, knowing their daughter was out camping with a friend for a year instead of going to school?"

"You're saying Dumbledore had my parents killed?"

"No, I'm saying he eerily knows everything that is going on, but he strangely had no idea your family was in danger. He, the man who was trying to convince the Ministry that the Dark Lord had returned— just happened to not see a looming threat to the family of the girl he was grooming to be Potter's ace in the hole." Severus groomed her ears. "Now, a typical person would say that no one could possibly be that omniscient. But this was Albus Dumbledore— a man who specialised in sticking his beard into everyone's business. He had quite a few decades to polish up his skills in that area."

"So, a man who can manage to be _exactly_ where he needs to be to save Potter in front of a Wizengamot kangaroo court, place a mirror exactly where he would find it, have just enough laxness in security to tip Potter off to a large, overgrown, three-headed monster guarding a mysterious trapdoor—somehow can't figure out that Hermione Granger's parents are in grave danger."

"He leaves Potter alone in his office with a Penseive full of memories that just happens to roll on out of the cabinet. He happens to have a familiar fly down to so bravely to save a child bitten by a Basilisk— the only familiar capable of curing a basilisk's bite. Let's not forget about how easy is it to get into the restricted section of said library, when Madam Pince has been trying to get the library stacks upgraded for longer than I have been alive. There is also the matter of all the things that weren't said, leading many to believe a great deal about who was guilty— yet you have people like Lockhart who would rather look in a mirror than teach people true magic. Headmaster of Hogwarts can't see a fake? Do you really believe that? There was a jinx on the DADA position for over a decade, yet, never once did the Headmaster deal with it, nor did he hire anyone who could. In fact, when I offered to investigate, I was told it was nothing but an unsubstantiated rumour."

"And, there was, of course, his decision to entrust of Hagrid with various Hogwarts secrets, knowing full well that it would be so very easy for one of you to ask just the right question at just the right time. He didn't give you that time-turner because of a whim or because he felt you earned it. No. He gave it to you because he _knew_ that you would make use of it far beyond the limitations of the average scholastic overachiever. He may not have realised that we were using it to train together, but, perhaps in the end, it was all for the best, provided, of course, that you would not remember who taught you everything."

Severus wrapped his foreleg around her and snuggled into her. "In fact, I am almost positive that he knew I was teaching you all along— perhaps he even encouraged it, but what he didn't count on was emotion. He never thought I'd—"

"Come to care for me?"

Severus nodded. "That was something he could not fathom: a Slytherin and a Gryffindor. While he may have believed my training of you was beneficial to his plans, he could never admit that it was or even could be anything more. He couldn't have you emotionally attached to me. I was never meant to live to see the end of the war."

"You know, when I first shifted, I carried Minerva on my back over the Dark Forest, flying through the clouds as fast as my wings could carry us," Hermione recalled. "She said something then— she had a student once that was so close to making the shift, but she had no idea what happened to him. She couldn't even remember his name. That was you, wasn't it?"

Severus nodded. "Most likely."

Hermione and Severus were silent, save for the purring rumble of one over-enthusiastic tabby cat.

"Odd, I would have thought she would have remembered something by now, especially after that long-winded supposition we just had." Hermione gave Minerva a quick grooming, causing the tabby to purr even more loudly.

"I think she is just happy to have us on one place," Severus mused. "She had a _lot_ of scent marking to make up for."

Hermione snorted. "I suppose. Well, since Minerva is with us for the long-haul, let's go check out our new place at Gringott's!"

Severus' ears perked forward. "Oh?"

"Bill says he's jealous."

Curiosity rolled off of Severus in waves.

"Interested?"

"Need you even ask?"

Hermione grinned, picked up Minerva in her mouth, delicately placing her on Severus's head and then wrapped her foreleg around her mate.

 ** _Crack_** **.**

They were gone.

* * *

"Lady Riddles," a rather fierce-looking goblin greeted as they appeared on the Apparition point. His eyes grew very wide as he took in Severus as well. "We may have to expand our Apparition point. I had not expected two of you.

"Mrrrowl!" Minerva meowed loudly.

"Three of you, my pardon," the goblin corrected. "I am Bragnok. I am new to this branch, but I have been briefed to tend to the lady sphinx' needs." He smiled, a mouth full of sharp teeth flashing.

Hermione bowed her head, and Severus mirrored it. "Thank you, Bragnok. I am excited to see what you have constructed. I hear from Bill Weasley that it is worthy of serious envy."

Bragnok had a smug smile. "Nothing is too much for our potential resident sphinx, Lady Riddles. They pooled together quite a crew to ensure you had room to thrive. If you will follow me?"

Bragnok shuffled along, carrying tin lantern with him. They passed by a large one-sided glass that separated the main bank and tellers from the private areas and the security staff whose solitary job was to look for abnormal behaviour in the clientel. Thanks to Hermione's technomagery, she had introduced a few interesting security devices to help the goblins protect the vaults, but one of the newest additions was a scanner that detected Dark magic residue.

Dark magic, while not entirely shunned by the goblins, voided all warranties of security. Aurors could come in at any time and take your Dark object, and it someone like Harry Potter broke into your vault and stole your Horcrux, well, the goblins washed their hands of the business. Instead, they focused on the guarding of their less-controversial clients.

There were, however, the highly-secure, high-priced, dragon-guarded vaults in the lower levels where anything went, but no insurance policy in the Wizarding world was going to protect your Dark artifacts. Hermione had encouraged the goblins to create an artificial dragon habitat instead of training them to respond to pain, stating that a dragon protecting its territory and family was far more likely not to fail at it. Charlie Weasley had provided them with a a few pairs of young, mated dragons, taught them how to handle the dragons without pissing them off, and left them to it.

No dragons harmed. No goblins accidentally eaten. It was a winning situation all around. Clients just had to call a day ahead of time when they wanted to visit their vault so the dragons could be moved into the secondary area with a large offering of tasty waterbuck. Most people seemed to agree it was a small price to pay for the extra security of their family jewels, tomes, artifacts, and other such valuables.

What the goblins wanted from Hermione, however, was her services in guarding over some very special vaults. If someone were to get past the riddles of a sphinx, the sphinx could still warn the goblins if they thought something was fishy. Also, if someone was stupid enough to attack a sphinx, all riddles were off, answered or otherwise. Customers who chose to use one of these vaults would be subject to a "enter at your own risk" policy. The purpose of these ultra high-security vaults was to guard your stuff— from _all_ comers.

The goblins dearly wanted Hermione to live there— and for her to be happy to do so. The happier she was, the more effective she would be at guarding for them, and they wanted her services very, very much.

As they descended deep into the caverns below Gringott's, they passed under the glamour-dispelling waterfall. Minerva meowed her annoyance at getting wet, shaking her fur with a highly disgruntled look upon her feline muzzle. Unlike the deep caverns, it seemed as though they were traveling down and then up, climbing a steep rock face into another, spacious cavern tucked away behind yet another waterfall.

Minerva hissed at the goblin, clearly unhappy with this treatment.

Yet, as they passed through the final watery barrier, natural sunlight came streaming down through hidden channels carved into the stone. Waterfalls surrounded the cavern, and floating in the middle was an island unto itself. Crystal clear water rushed down the sides, creating an eerie, glowing mist.

Golden sands spread out as far as one could see, but it was littered with small waterfalls, lakes, and streams. Behind it all rose a giant pyramid— one that would render the pharaohs of old positively green with envy— shining with a brilliant, shimmering and polished smooth finish.

"Whaaaa!" Hermione exclaimed, her ears perked straight up from her mane of hair. Minerva clung to her mane tightly as the sphinx took off, flying towards the floating domain.

Severus looked this way and that, his tail lashing in conflict. Finally, he took off after her, unable to restrain his own intense curiosity.

Hermione was perched on top of a rather impressive carved sphinx, and she tried to mirror the expression with great difficulty. "That's not how our teeth work!" she giggled, bounding down into what was probably the courtyard.

Rows and rows of date palms were scattered about, as water streamed down from the aqueducts into a large pond filled with glimmering, multi-coloured fish. The ceiling was charmed to show the outside sky— a greater version than Hogwarts' Great Hall.

"Mrr!" Minerva meowed. " Mrrrmmrrrow!" she called, listening to her voice bounce back to her. A carved entryway lead into the great pyramid, and Minerva went bounding in first, her meows echoing through the halls and corridors.

"Someone is excited," Severus purred into Hermione's ear, startling her.

"It's so beautiful! It's like the outside!" Her tail was poofed with excitement, and she lashed it back and forth. "We haven't even seen the inside yet."

"Well, we should probably get a move on, before Minerva claims it all for herself," Severus mused.

They padded in through the main corridor, eyes pausing to stare at pedestals with pristine tomes set on top. Shelves were carved into the stone, holding everything from books to baubles. They passed through what would have been the main gallery, and found themselves face-to-face with the guardians to their domicile.

Bast and Anubis sat in front of the door, gazing down on all who would enter. Torches with magical fire lit the braziers at their feet, giving them an sort of lifelike quality. Hermione placed a paw on the door, and the stone gave way, moving aside to allow them passage. She gave Severus an excited wide-eyed look and happily bounded in.

The first thing he noticed as he walked into the living chambers was that the air was fresh. Someone had gone through a lot of work to make the airflow complete perfection. The second thing he noticed was that he had just walked into a living library.

Bookshelves from floor to ceiling surrounded comfortable couches and a large, central fireplace. Smokeless torches lit the room just bright enough to be cozy or to be able to read, but not so bright that was like staring in full sunlight. Sculptures and random interesting objects decorated the walls that weren't covered in shelves, and pedestals displaying various magical artifacts lay on display in crystal-covered cases.

The main room led off into a spacious dining area— large enough for company, but still intimate. Connected to that was a kitchen that would have had his mother thinking she'd died and gone to heaven. Minerva was perched in the window over the sink, sunning herself in the beams of light coming from a window looking out in an indoor garden.

There were rooms on top of rooms. There were reading rooms, laboratory rooms, display rooms, toilets, and bathrooms. There were sunning shelves, garden sprawls, and indoor hot springs. Many rooms were furnished, but many more remained waiting for that special touch.

Minerva found a way up, sending her meows ringing through the stone. Hermione and Severus followed, finding a glorious greenhouse set at the apex of the pyramid, the tip lit like sun to shine down upon the garden below. Even now, there were seedlings growing, and he recognised key potion ingredients as well as a start of a vegetable garden. Fruit trees lined the outer edges, and flowers ringed the trunks.

This place— was a sodding paradise.

Minerva had found a patch of catnip, and was rolling in it, eyes wide and wild and her tail puffed out like a bristle brush. She darted around the garden at full tilt, tackled a sunflower head, and sprung off it to dash around some more.

"Minerva likes it," Hermione beamed.

"And you, wife? What do you think?"

"Do you like it?"

"It's a dream. I more than like it, I love it!"

"If you are here, it's perfect." Hermione purred at him, tail lashing.

"Hrr," Severus purred, rubbing his cheek affectionately against hers.

"Where are the vaults though?" Hermione boggled.

"This way, Lord and Lady of the Riddles," Bragnok said, startling the two sphinxes with how quiet he had been. "I will show you!"

Bragnok led them back downstairs to the main room, just off the entrance. He moved a statue, flipped a switch, and moved the statue back. The fire in the fireplace died down and exposed another door.

"Doors everywhere!" Hermione said excitedly.

Severus harrumphed and followed Bragnok as he opened the door and led them down a sprawling staircase. As they touched the floor of the landing, torches lit up, and vault doors spanned around them in a great circle. All the doors lay open, for now, waiting for the rarest and most priceless of treasures to be hoarded within.

There would be no way someone could access the vaults without stomping down the center of a mated pair of sphinx's domain. Suicide.

"Hah!" Hermione said. "Each vault has a recording device and a pressure plate to tell them when it is being accessed."

Bragnok smiled. "Only the best in these vaults, Lady of the Riddles. Top of the line defenses and traps, but the greatest will be what lies above, should you choose to accept our offer."

Bragnok led them back upstairs. "Once the vaults are filled, they will be closed. Deposits and withdrawals will occur in the upper levels, and only goblins on my hand-picked team will be coming down here to deposit or withdraw items. If anyone comes down here without a specially-trained goblin escort, they are yours to do with as you please, but we ask you to please contact us for cleanup in case there should be— a massacre."

Bragnok scratched his head idly. "If you become suspicious of any of us at any time, you are to riddle us. Those who know better will either know how to answer you or will bow a retreat without attempting. Either way, the vaults remain safe."

"We have planted extensive gardens to supply various produce, however we will supply a weekly order of whatever foods or supplies you so desire. The meat larder, which has a passage through the kitchen, will be fully stocked all the time. Half of your stipend will be deposited into your personal vault each month, and half will be delivered in objects, artifacts, tomes, and the like, depending on what our curse-breakers have found that month. The objects will come as they are found, but the stipend will be regular. We stress to you, however, that should you require anything in regards to food, supplies, furnishings, or decor, to please see us first, as we will do what we can to provide in honour of our agreement— should you choose to accept our offer."

Hermione tapped her claws on the side of her jaw. "And should I have a mate that we had not discussed originally?"

"Lady of Riddles and her chosen mate are both welcome in this agreement. All offspring you may have while you remain here will be provided for and protected just as you shall be. If the space here proves to be insufficient, we will be open to negotiating for larger quarters. We have, however, tried to plan ahead by providing enough space, master quarters, and secondary rooms to accommodate even the most extensive family. We also have a master guest list upstairs which you may add names of those you wish to allow visiting privileges."

"Once the contract is sealed, the vaults will be sealed," Bragnok said. "Keyed to your energy signatures alone. Should the both of you, somehow, become indisposed, the vaults will be sealed until your return. The only time business will be conducted with the vaults is when you are here to see it happen."

Hermione stared dreamily across the garden oasis, eyes fluttering as Severus groomed her ears. "Hrm? Oh. That sounds more than fair. Where do you want me to put my paw."

"Right here, Lady of Riddles," Bragnok chuckled, unfurling a scroll.

Hermione looked it over, eyes taking in the goblin legalese. She let out a soft breath and smashed her paw against the parchment. As she lifted it, a large sphinx paw print emblazoned the parchment. Severus did the same, looking it over before pressing his large paw down on the parchment.

Bragnok bowed to them both. "Welcome home, Lord and Lady of Riddles. We look forward to a long and fruitful partnership."

Hermione grinned from ear-to-ear. "It's like our own floating island paradise!"

Suddenly, Minerva was in her human form, clutching her head. "Island paradise. Island paradise. I remember. I _remember_!"

* * *

 _"_ _Come, come, Sirius, sit," Albus tutted, gesturing to the nearby seat._

 _"_ _Ugh, this place smells like cat," Sirius complained, childishly holding his nose._

 _"_ _Now, now, Sirius," Albus replied. "It's not nice of you to talk about your old professors in such an impolite way."_

 _"_ _You sure this is safe, Albus?" Sirius said, glaring at all the portraits. "So many prying eyes and ears."_

 _"_ _The portraits can't say anything against me while I'm still alive, Sirius," Albus chuckled. "And I don't plan on dying anytime soon. You have the taint?"_

 _"_ _Yeah, mixed it up from mum's old recipe book. Tested it on a rat. It'll look like you're dying for real, but you won't be." Sirius sighed, staring into the fireplace. "Say the incantation, and your body will be dead, for all intents and purposes. Lasts a week, then you'll wake up, right as rain, with no one the wiser."_

 _"_ _Perfect. Are you prepared for your own death through the Veil?"_

 _"_ _Ready as I'll ever be," Sirius replied. "But you really shouldn't be trusting Snivellus with anything. I don't care if my father thought he was a swell bloke. He can't be trusted."_

 _"_ _Sirius, Severus is more than useful, and if there are any faults in the boy, it is because you made him that way. You and your little gang of Marauders. There are a few times you went a bit overboard, and almost cost me our little Slytherin ace-in-the-hole."_

 _"_ _You should have just let me have Lily. I could have turned her on to the right path."_

 _"_ _No, Sirius," Albus mused. "She had to be where she was — with Potter. All of it had to happen exactly as it did._

 _"_ _He was a good mate, Albus. He could have been here with us. Right now. Instead you are relying on that sodding git, Snivellus."_

 _"_ _Do not underestimate the power of affection or guilt, Sirius," Albus replied. "Both, even, can be a powerful directing force."_

 _"_ _Easy for you to say. You don't have to think about him getting his greasy paws on Lily. She deserved better than his sorry arse pining over her."_

 _"_ _Even you have to admit that little stunt you pulled getting Lily there at just the right moment put him precisely where we needed him."_

 _Sirius shook his head. "Brain-fucking Lucius was one thing, Albus, but you had to serve Snivellus up like some prodigal son just so he could introduce him to the right people? The perfect little tool? Get him all properly trained up as a Potions master? Why make him more useful to the Dark Lord?"_

 _"_ _Language, Sirius," Dumbledore admonished. "Just because you go around talking like your mouth is a toilet does not mean you have to spew such foulness here."_

 _Sirius crossed his arms over his chest rather petulantly. "Feh."_

 _"_ _Besides, if Severus wasn't so useful to Tom, he wouldn't even have survived or been given an offer. Your lovely cousin would have murdered him." Albus stroked his beard._

 _"_ _I look forward to sitting on a sunny beach and sipping mojitos," Sirius said after a while._

 _"_ _And we shall both be enjoying that little island paradise," Albus said. "Harry will succeed. Tom will be vanquished, and no one has to know that I had saved Tom in the first place. No one has to know you almost murdered your classmate, and you get to 'die' a hero. The Dark Lord will die. Everyone wins."_

 _"_ _You sure that Weasley boy can keep the bushy-haired chit on task?" Sirius asked. "Everything is a cock-up if Harry goes and dies before he's supposed to._

 _"_ _He'll be fine. I gave him a little help keeping her attention since he can't seem to do it with his own charms."_

 _"_ _What charm?"_

 _"_ _Exactly." Dumbledore popped another sherbert lemon into his mouth. "As long as the Granger girl keeps forgiving Mr Weasley, she will remain friends with them both. Since Harry can't be without his best mate, she must keep forgiving Ronald's peccadilloes. She remains a part of the team and continues to protect Harry. Harry wins."_

 _"_ _I still think you should put a little potion into Snivellus' food," Sirius said. "Give him another kind of torture to pin over another Gryffindor chit. He deserves to writhe in agony."_

 _"_ _No, there must be no distractions," Albus warned. "No emotional connections to the living. We cannot afford him to become emotional over anyone but Lily. Lily is what keeps him working for me. I have Minerva teaching Granger a few things on the side, thinking it just challenges the girl. Had to get her a time-turner for all that extra work."_

 _Sirius tapped his fingers together. "This had better work, Albus. I didn't stay out of Azkaban to fake escaping just to end up in there for real."_

 _"_ _It will work, Sirius. Trust me," Albus said confidently. "By the time this is done, I'll have Obliviated all those that inadvertently contributed to the cause. We'll be enjoying those drinks on your island paradise with no one the wiser."_

 _"_ _At least my family wasn't completely useless. They did leave me that property."_

 _"_ _Only because you were the only one left alive in the family, hrm?"_

 _Sirius shrugged. "They owed me. Besides, it gave us the island and all the non-plottable devices my paranoid father put into it."_

 _"_ _He was right to be paranoid, Sirius."_

 _"_ _Yes, well, not about the right things, now was he?"_

 _A muffled thump broke their conversation._

 _"_ _Ah, Minerva must be back."_

 _"_ _She can't see us together!"_

 _"_ _Oh, Sirius, relax. Minnervvaaa! Come, sit with us. We have so much to tell you."_

 _There was only the slightest movement of a wand from Albus' sleeve._

 _"_ _Obliviate."_

* * *

"This is quite the place," Kingsley said admiringly, sitting down in the comfy chair. "I should have been born a sphinx. Thank you for adding me to the visitor's list. There was some discussion upstairs as to whether I was allowed."

"Sorry about that," Hermione said, passing him some tea and biscuits. "We've only been here a few days, so there are a lot of goblins who haven't realised we've moved in. Bragnok is busy spreading the word. Until now, we were just a rumour."

"Interesting use of ley lines outside," Kingsley said, gesturing to the swirling arching energy that surrounded the island.

Hermione flushed red, "Yes, isn't it?"

Kingsley eyed her suspiciously. "Hermione."

"It wasn't intentional!"

"Your ley line wrangling rarely is."

"What she means is," Severus said, knuckling Hermione on the head with his hand. "It was an unforeseen side-effect of our getting to know the new place."

Hermione flushed an even deeper red.

"We seem to— ahem, create— ley lines when we are very, very happy."

Kingsley's eyes widened. "Severus, there are at least twenty individual ley lines arching around this island right now."

Severus averted his eyes. "Mmmhmm."

Kingsley's jaw dropped. "Well then— that explains the ley line that appeared in the library."

"Here is your contract, Minister Shacklebolt," Bragnok said, unfurling a long parchment that rolled off the table and towards the door.

"Good grief, Bragnok, let me get on my legalese glasses on," Kingsley muttered, pulling out a large pair of strange-looking spectacles and putting them on.

"I assure you everything we discussed is there," Bragnok said, exposing his sharp teeth in a goblin smile.

"I'm sure you did, Bragnok, but I would like to know how that translated into this monstrous document."

Bragnok snorted in amusement. "As you wish."

"So, it's true?" Hermione said. "You're transferring the permanent storage objects here from the DoM vaults?"

Kingsley nodded, pushing up his obnoxious looking glasses. "Aye. No one should be messing with them anyway, and the only ones that will be coming to look at them you already know and have procedures for. This will be the best place for them and you two get to do your work from home."

"You're the _best_ , boss," Hermione gushed.

Kingsley winked. "Don't let it get out. I have a list of potions I would adore having made, Severus. Our regular Potions wizard went and got himself married and moved to the Netherlands."

"The Netherlands?"

"The tulips are apparently quite stunning there."

Severus blinked. "I suppose that will not be a problem, considering you are paying me to."

Kingsley grinned. "I'll have all the supplies you need sent to your stores. How is Minerva?"

"Resting," Severus said, gesturing down the hall. "Healer Faulkner has been visiting regularly to help ease the pain of the spontaneous memory return. Physical contact helps. Hermione and I have taken turns using her as a kitty-shaped sphinx cuddle toy and that seems to be helping enormously."

"We made sure her new chambers leads off into the gardens, that seems to be helping with her recovery," Hermione added.

"Ah, good. That witch deserves some rest after everything she's been through. All of you do, really. I have Potter and Malfoy performing traces and research to see if they can use the spells on the Weasley family to locate Dumbledore and Black— if they are still alive, that is. Part of me doubts it, yet the memories are clearly revealing they intended to _seem_ dead. Even without the outstandingly faked deaths, various manipulations, Dumbledore's blatant abuse of his position, the cover-up of an attempted murder— there is still the matter of unauthorised Obliviation in a non-combat wartime situation. Do you have any idea who the attempted murder victim was?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Me."

Kingsley raised a brow.

"Back in my sixth year, Black lured me to Shrieking Shack to teach me a lesson," Severus explained. "He sent me directly into the path of a raging, homicidal, transformed werewolf."

"Potter saved my life, much to Black's clear disappointment," Severus added, "but just when I thought he and I may have come to a grudging respect for each other, Dumbledore wiped the entire incident under the carpet, claiming that Sirius was just playing a boyish prank, and that any punishment would lead to some inconvenient questions— and Remus couldn't afford those. It wasn't _his_ fault."

Severus shook his head. "I was sworn to total secrecy— lest something unsavory befall me. Implied, of course. Never actually detailed in words."

Hermione frowned and stood up, pacing. She trembled, her face twisting as she tried to digest all of the things she was trying to fathom. Disbelief, anger, frustration, and more radiated off her, and she stormed out of the room in a flurry of wings, fur, and the distinctive musk of sphinx.

Severus sighed. "Every time I think Hermione has come to terms with all the old man did, she finds more things to guilt herself over."

"Guilt? It was hardly her fault," Kingsley commented.

"No, but she blames herself for not noticing and for having believed, even for a little while, that Dumbledore was a shining beacon of light in a sea of darkness. She'll go roll in the sand until she's covered, scrape up against every date palm, eat every blueberry off a bush, and then sulk in the hot springs for a while. Mind you, if I had that back in the day, I would have been far less bitter."

"I think we all would be," Kingsley sighed. "The goblins really went out of their way with this place."

Bragnok, who had been silently waiting for Kingsley to finish reading, chuckled. "We had to, or she might decide to consider other offers."

"She had other offers?" Kingsley said with a blink.

"Only a matter of time. The Americans like to lure talent in from the old country to make themselves seem more traditional."

"Odd, I figured the goblins all teamed together," Kingsley mused, finishing up the document and signing on the bottom with a flourish of his quill.

"European goblins and American goblins have different ways of going about policy," Bragnok said, his lips pulling back in a sneer. "They try to modernise, or so they say, offering up more money by the hour instead of housing and stipend. We believe that you should want to live where you work, but they have 'freedoms' that allow their employees to pick where they want to live. This leads to less investment in the business. It is far less personal."

Bragnok rubbed his chin with his claws. "When Griphook went off on his own and betrayed us, it was most shameful. Shameful because he disgraced his honour over an artifact and destroyed levels of our vaults with his machinations. His greed resulted in a great many killed and injured. But, it was also disgraceful for us because he had been abducted here— our work and our home. There is no telling what tortures twisted his mind before Mr Potter came looking for the Dark object. And we had been using the same dragon conditioning we had used for hundreds of years, never once thinking there might be another way— in hindsight, now that we have realised that feeling like this place is a home must apply to both the goblins and our guardians—many of us have come to realise that we must be open to change, but not so much that we throw away our most important values. That must take time and cannot be purchased and alleviated with increased wages if that means sacrificing those values."

Bragnok shook his head. "We are— slowly changing, but not so fast that we insult our very foundations. And we have learned that not all humans are as close-minded as those we came to know in the past. Our Lady of Riddles has proven this by not only helping to reconstruct what was destroyed but also helping us to protect it. The wizard, Mr Potter, also paid to help rebuild the damage. We did not expect such a display of honour from him. "

"I think we are all learning," Kingsley said. "Learning that some things are worth holding on to, and some things we should throw to the flames. Hopefully, this partnership between the goblins and the Ministry is the start of something better for us both."

Bragnok grimaced, showing his teeth in a goblin-smile. "It will also help to make the Americans green with envy, yes? They would truly be kicking themselves when they realise what they have missed."

"Other than our partnership?"

Bragnok smiled. "We have a mated pair of greater sphinxes, Minister. Every time their passion leads them, a new ley line is brought into existence. That alone is reward enough to make them grovel at our feet. Later, perhaps, when our Lord and Lady of Riddles decide to have sphinxlets of their own— what better place than to take up residence here, the place they have known to take care of them, hrm?"

Severus cleared his throat, feeling a little discomfited by the frank conversation regarding his breeding habits.

Kingsley laughed, clapping Severus on the shoulder. "What are you going to do with all these ley lines, Bragnok?"

"For now, they guard this island— any who attempt to pass through without permission may find their magic stunted or burned away entirely. For a non-sphinx, that could be fatal all on its own." Bragnok nodded his head, musing. "They are almost sentient— they know what our Lord and Lady of Riddles want, who to protect, and who to deny. There could be no better barrier for their domain or our vaults. Perhaps, as we expand, we may ask them to move them around to offer power to certain other areas to strengthen those defenses and wards. I suppose that will depend on how happy our friends remain, yes?"

Severus coughed, flushing a rather fetching shade of dark red.

"My family worked with ley lines before we moved to Britain," Shacklebolt commented. "Sensing them runs in our family. I learned early that you don't go up and hug one if you truly value your magic. Fortunately, I was a child, and it seems they are more forgiving of children. I only lost my magic for a few days— long enough to know that I never wanted it to happen again."

"Perhaps your family has some sphinx in it, Minister," Bragnok said with a toothy smile. "Perhaps, more than they wish to admit."

"Well, I haven't sprouted fangs, wings, and a tail, so—"

"Give it time," Bragnok said. "Perhaps you need only prime the lock with the proper key."

"Goblins— so irritatingly vague," Kingsley glowered.

Bragnok grinned unrepentantly. "Humans, so irritatingly dense."

The both of them laughed together.

* * *

"Mrrrow!" Minerva commented, batting Hermione between the eyes with her paw.

Hermione went cross-eyed to stare at the tabby Animagus. "You should be resting."

"Mrrrrrr," Minerva yawned, flopping down between Hermione's pointed ears.

"Oh, so now I'm furniture?"

Minerva purred contentedly.

Hermione slumped into the warm said, purring. "I missed you too, you know. Even when I didn't realise that was why I was missing something."

Minerva purr-rubbed against Hermione's ear.

Hermione used a paw to topple Minerva off her head and pinned her down between her forelegs to give her a good grooming. Minerva purr-wriggled and pawed at Hermione's face with clawless bats.

"Severus and I added you to the permanent list with Bragnok— your chambers here are yours. You can live here and escape to them whenever you wish."

Minerva's eyes grew wide, and she bopped Hermione upside the face with her paw. "Mrrowl!"

"You're welcome," Hermione chuckled, snuggling into the silver tabby mercilessly.

"I'd imagine Hogwarts hardly feels as safe as it once did," Hermione guessed. Not like when I was a student there, back when I thought it was the absolute safest place in the world."

"Here, it's hard to believe that we're actually underground," Hermione mused, staring up at the moving sky. "They really worked very hard to make us feel at home here."

"Mrr," Minerva purred, kneading Hermione's fur between her paws.

Hermione yawned and gently face-rubbed against Minerva, purring softly. "Thanks, Minerva."

"Mrowl?"

"You always know just the right things to say."

Minerva purred and head-bonked into Hermione's chin.

There was really nothing more to say.

* * *

 ** _(Letters to the editor)_**

 ** _I Had Dumbledore's Baby!_**

 _You may think Dumbledore is dead, but you'd be wrong! I had Dumbledore's baby, and it wasn't during the war. You people think, I'm nuts, but I know the truth. I know some of you think he was batting for the other team, but my baby is proof positive that Albus Dumbledore is alive!_

 _Alfreda Enid Glumbustle_

* * *

 _Dumbledore Is Dead_

 _I don't care what all you ninnyhammers are yammering on about. Albus Dumbledore is_ _ **dead**_ _. If you think you've been shagging a ghost, them maybe you should check to see if your alcohol-fueled escapades didn't lead you to his brother, Aberforth, instead. Get it on with his little brother the goat-shagger but let the old goat himself rest in peace._

 _Frederic Two-Swords_

 _P.S. You'll surely find out when you have a kid. Hah!_

* * *

 ** _What Happened to Rita Skeeter?_**

 _I'm not sure if any of you have noticed, or maybe you don't even care, but surely someone has observed that there has been a sad lack of exciting tabloid stories in the past few months. Where has the wonderful bringer of truth gone? She alone dared to bring the absolute truth into the light! She alone braved the poo-pooing of the public to expose the real story behind the saviour of the magical world, the Boy-Who-Slew-Voldemort, Harry Potter, the Muggle whore, Hermione Granger, and the unsung hero, Ronald Weasley._

 _Now, after the fame of the war has passed, we need more people to write the truth! We need Rita Skeeter to tell us what the Ministry is hiding! Is the Wizengamot is open for the public to watch? Impossible. I don't believe it. I want someone to tell us what is really going on. I want to know why that insufferable Scottish bint is heading Hogwarts. I want to know why my son is sharing tables with the children of other houses instead of each house staying to their assigned table. What is this new teamwork policy? Why even have houses to begin with? I didn't groom my child to be the best of the best to simply be one of a team!_

 _Bring back Rita Skeeter so we can get some truth out of the rabble._

 _Martinius Everett Oxpecker_

* * *

 _Harpies are Harpin' on Each Other!_

 _By Marianna Slyboots_

 _Have you seen the Holyhead Harpies play? Neither have we! Ever since the last game in July, the Harpies have been scrambling to find a replacement for their missing chaser, Ginevra Weasley._

 _An avid Quidditch fan, Randall Bonaventure, caught a picture of Miss Weasley at the U.S. Quidditch Tournament hosted in San Francisco, California. The suspicious picture depicts Miss Weasley in a highly compromising position with a man with platinum blond hair. Unfortunately, the man's face was too blurry for him to be positively identified. However, as you may know, her famous betrothed, Harry Potter, is_ _ **not**_ _a blond._

 _When reporters stormed the Auror's Office to question Draco Malfoy as to his recent whereabouts and the nature of his relationship with Ms Weasley, his response was anything but accommodating._

 _"_ _Get the hell out of my office! There are fifteen open missing persons cases, seven of whom are children, and you think that tracking down a grown woman who obviously has other things in mind than marrying Harry Potter, is a our top priority, then you are dead wrong!"_

 _"_ _Is it true that you snogged Miss Weasley at the last Vratsa Vultures game?"_

 _"_ _ **GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY OFFICE!**_ _"_

 _"_ _Mr Potter! Mr Potter! Is it true that your fiancée thinks you're boring in bed?"_

 _"_ _What the f—_ _ **GET THE HELL OUT OF THIS OFFICE!**_ _"_

 _(moving picture of journalist getting punched squarely in the face)_

 _There you have it, folks! So what do YOU think? Has Ginny Weasley left Harry Potter because he can't get it up? Who is this mysterious blond who has obviously captured the lovely redhead's attention? Has Harry Potter's Auror partner been having an affair with his fiancée?_

 _Only time will tell._

 _We here at the Prophet will continue to investigate and update this most scandalous breaking news!_

* * *

 _Dear Draco,_

 _My son, your reputation has preceded you— in leaps, bounds, and international newspapers. Even here, in the rustic mountains of Switzerland, the latest British news reaches us quite efficiently._

 _So, before the rumours are revealed to be fact, kindly inform your father as to whether there is any morsel of truth in this rather disturbing tale._

 _Are you, in fact, in a relationship with a the youngest female member of the Weasel clan? Are you planning on making an honest witch out of her, or are you going to string her along until something better comes along?_

 _Whatever choices you might make, my son, I will warn you now that your mother and I will not tolerate a Malfoy heir being born out of wedlock— even if it is with one such as her. I would ask that you comport yourself as a properly respectable wizard and take steps to ensure that nothing so disgraceful ever occurs within our family._

 _Our reputation may not be what it once was, but I will_ _ **not**_ _see it tarnished further._

 _Your mother wishes to know if you wish a silverware set, as it is our traditional wedding gift, and if you would like blue smoke dragon filet for the reception. Why they call it dragon filet, I really don't know. It's not like it actually comes from a dragon. Maybe it just smokes like a dragon. Whatever it it, it's the very finest beef you can get._

 _Anyway, my son, please enlighten us regarding your relationship status so we can either prepare for the inevitable or put this nonsense to rest. Either is better than wondering if the Prophet actually got something right, for once._

 _Your father,_

 _Lucius Malfoy_

 _(seal of the House of Malfoy)_

* * *

 _(full sized desk-scroll unrolls)_

 ** _NO!_**

 ** _FUCK NO!_**

 ** _NO! NO! NO!_**

 _Never in a million years, father!_

 _So help me Merlin, I would find a way to nullify Severus' marriage and marry Granger first!_

 ** _NO!_**

 _(firewhisky stain on parchment)_

 _In case that wasn't quite clear enough, please let me reiterate:_ _ **NO!**_

* * *

 _Dear Draco,_

 _What do you_ _ **mean**_ _Severus' marriage?_

 _Lucius Malfoy_

 _(seal of the House of Malfoy)_

* * *

 _Dear Draco,_

 _Do not force me to hire an entire parliament of owls to bombard you with letters._

 _What do you_ _ **mean**_ _Severus' marriage?_

 _Lucius Malfoy_

 _(seal of the House of Malfoy)_

* * *

 _Salutations to Lord and Lady Malfoy. I, Master of Potions, Severus Snape, send greetings._

 _Dear Lucius,_

 _It has come to my attention that your situation may have changed quite recently. I can say no more at this time other than to ask that if you truly trust me, please Apparate to the Gringott's London Apparition point this Wednesday evening just before the bank closes for the evening. Ask for Bragnok, and inform him that you are coming to visit me at my request._

 _You may bring Narcissa if you so choose, but I know you may feel understandably suspicious. I can only promise you that I have no intention of bringing harm upon either of you, nor is this some sort of trap. You have my oath as a wizard on that._

 _There are some very important things that you must know, and there are certain things that must be done before you can know them._

 _It is… complicated, my friend._

 _If anyone other than Kingsley or Bragnok comes to meet you, you should immediately Disapparate. I do not think anyone would be so foolish as to break into goblin-owned territory to find you, but those are the only two persons who should meet you. As for why I cannot meet you myself— that will be made clearer once you get here._

 _Clear as mud._

 _Yours,_

 _Severus T. Snape_

 _(his seal, the potion master's serpent and the sphinx)_

 _P.S. In case you have any doubt as to who has sent you this, please know that I still vividly recall that horrible drunken love sonnet you sang to me after Narcissa spurned you that first time. I also have pictures of the pink afghan you wrapped Draco in as a baby as well as the day you tried to change his nappy with a dinner napkin. So far, Draco hasn't seen them. Yet._

* * *

 _Severus,_

 _I'll meet you on Wednesday with Narcissa._

 _Lucius_

 _P.S. You wouldn't dare!_

* * *

"I'm going to kill him! Again!" Lucius' voice rang out very clearly from down the hall. There was a resounding crash as something fairly heavy hit the wall and shattered.

"That had better not be the antique amphora," Severus quipped. "I could live with that hideous French vase meeting an early demise, however."

"Father's temper was never," Draco commented dryly, "without certain unfortunate casualties."

"Mr Malfoy!" Healer Faulkner's voice rang out in return.

 ** _Smack!_**

Muffled grunting and rustling came shortly after.

"Now, I will have to mend that hand, Mr Malfoy. Now **_please_** sit down!"

"That poor man," Hermione whispered, sipping her tea with a rather wide-eyed expression on her face.

"Don't waste your pity on my father," Draco snorted. "He needs the pain to help him work things out."

"I wasn't talking about your father, Draco," Hermione replied.

"Oh, yes," Draco said. "I'm sure the healer would rather be somewhere else at the moment. Anywhere else. I certainly would if I had my father for a patient."

"Had I known he was going to destroy things, I would have created a specially padded room," Severus said with a sigh. "And here I was hoping we would be able to have a nice dinner without such tedious dramatics."

"To be fair, Uncle, he _did_ just find out that you were set up to be murdered, defied death, and had his own brain scrambled from the age of fourteen," Draco mused. "He taught me based on lies he didn't even believe, though he truly thought he did, he questions whether his wife actually loves him, and now he realises he was the key player in getting the Dark Lord to rise to power, his best friend killed, and a disgruntled son he never intended teach how to be an insufferable bigot. Give the man some time, at least, to digest all of that."

Severus sniffed. "Well, at least we have rather spacious guest facilities here."

"That's it! I want to see Minerva! She needs to teach me how to be an Animagus so I can tear that ancient bastard to shreds with my own teeth!"

"Mr Malfoy! Please sit down! Besides, what if your Animagus should happen to be some sort of smaller animal?"

"Then I will take many more smaller and far more agonising bites!"

"Now, all I can imagine is my father as a disgruntled hare," Draco sighed, "or perhaps a peacock. Probably a peacock. They don't even have teeth."

Severus raised a brow. "Then Lucius could simply peck him to death."

"Would serve him right, the sodding bastard," Draco replied. Then he let out a long sigh. "At least Mother is happily, blissfully unconscious and sleeping things off."

"She was— strangely kind," Hermione said with no small amount of wonder.

"Mother always was," Draco confessed. "But it was always buried deep under layers and layers of pureblood propriety. That compulsion, ironically, was thanks to my aunt. At least that is what Healer Faulkner believes. Crazy Auntie Bella apparently couldn't stand for Mother to be like her Muggle-born loving sister, Andromeda."

"We're going to have to get Healer Faulkner a nice gift basket and an all expenses paid holiday after all this," Severus said. "I am inexpressibly glad, Draco, that despite everything, you took after your mother's buried compassion when everything was on the line."

Draco nodded. "Me too. I never thought I'd say that— but I'm glad that I couldn't do it, couldn't just murder someone in cold blood. I'd happily kill him now, though. With so many good reasons for doing so."

"I wouldn't risk your newfound and restored reputation on the old man," Severus said. "If anyone realises the value in how hard a good reputation is to gain and keep, it would be me."

Draco nodded grimly. "I have learned it, just the same."

"Wait for Kingsley to give you the official go, and then you can rain down all over his parade and island paradise with flamboyant abandon," Harry said, scratching his head. "Official-like. If anything, Kingsley has proven he wants things done right and he has our backs as he's doing it."

"What about you, Potter?" Draco asked. "What do you think of all this?"

"Finding out my fiancée ran off and got married to some American Quidditch star after being caught snogging him at a big game? Realising that I might have been charmed into liking her in the first place—" Harry trailed off, suddenly weary. "My biggest hero and person I wanted to be like was grooming me to sacrifice myself— he was there, yeah? In my head when I was almost dead. Even then, he was pushing me towards doing the right thing, whatever he decided that was."

"And Sirius?" Harry groaned. "I'm not even sure I'm safe at Grimmauld Place anymore. If Sirius is alive— Kreacher is still under his command. The house is still his. For all I know, he's been monitoring the place all along. I don't want to scan anything or bring in a team because it could tip him off if he IS watching."

"So you are just living there— pretending that you don't know?"

Harry nodded. "Creepy, let me tell you. Kreacher _has_ to know. He's bound to him by magic to the bloodline. That means—"

"He's been playing you for a fool from the very beginning." Draco shook his head in disgust.

"Yeah," Harry agreed.

"There has to be a way to get you out of there that doesn't spook them," Draco said.

"Anything that takes me out of there will likely look suspicious, now of all times. Especially with Ron having activated that damned Portkey," Harry said. "There is a good chance we have already given them a fair warning due to that."

Draco narrowed his eyes as another smash came from down the hall.

"Mr Malfoy! That was my favourite stethoscope! Please desist this wanton violence against innocent inanimate objects!"

"Hrm," Severus said.

"What?"

"It amazes me that with all the things magic can do, the healers still prefer to listen to the heart and lungs with the old-fashioned stethoscope," Severus mused. "Some would call it 'Muggle'."

"I'm surprisingly okay with that, now," Draco said. "This and the war really put things in perspective for me."

"Oh?"

"Mhhmm," Draco replied. "We all bleed. Our blood is exactly the same. It supports life— and when we are without, we die." He stared at Severus. "Only some of us die a little more effectively than others."

"Draco, are you saying you wanted me dead?" Severus arched a brow.

"No, Uncle— I'm saying I'm glad you are alive to appreciate my epiphany."

"Hn," Severus replied. "You haven't called me Uncle in a good many years."

"Perhaps, I shouldn't have stopped," Draco said. "You may not be my father's brother in blood, but you have more than been there when and where it matters. Even my father knows that. I had never seen him cry until today— when he saw _you_."

Severus squared his shoulders. "I can only hope he still feels as endeared once Healer Faulkner has finished removing all the compulsions."

Draco shook his head. "No, Uncle. I think what he felt for you is much like what my mother has been under the surface. She was always a compassionate witch buried in the need to be proper. My father truly cared about you, even buried under all that— everything."

Hermione put a comforting hand on Draco's shoulder. "They can stay until they are ready to face that world out there. Merlin knows we have enough room and more than enough food. And—" Hermione sighed deeply. "An entire family of house-elves, thanks to your parents."

Draco laughed. "They haven't forgotten about S.P.E.W., Hermione, but trust me they mean well giving you a family of them. With this place, you'll need the help— and if you have a family, well, even more so. I'm just glad you finally realised that while some elves were mistreated, most of them are not. Do you know why my father hated Dobby so much?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, you never said."

"Dobby accidentally killed his favourite house-elf— my nanny-elf. _His_ nanny-elf. She'd been with the Malfoy family for a very long time. She knew things about the Malfoys that even my father has forgotten. Dobby was trying to help— his version of help— and he dropped an entire shelf of heavy cauldrons down on top of her."

Draco looked haunted. "No, that's not quite the truth." Draco closed his eyes. "I was playing on the floor, getting into things as usual. Mother knew I was safe with Elbereth— she even had a dignified name, not like the crap they name themselves now. I always was. I was playing there with a head of cabbage, rolling it back and forth to her. Dobby tried to get something off the top shelf, and it all came crashing down on top of me, only it didn't. She protected me with her body, shoving me out of the way with her magic. Father found her, crushed by the pans, the shelf, the— everything. Dobby was beating himself with a ladle, and father knew. He _knew_ it had been Dobby's fault. Father treated him like shite from then on. I was too young, I didn't realise until I was older that it hadn't always been that way."

Draco looked haunted. "Father made him perform the most humiliating tasks, and Dobby lived with it because he knew why things had changed for him. Then one day, Dobby forgot the reason. He forgot Elbereth. He wanted to be free. All the other elves wanted him gone— to them he was a reminder of their greatest shame."

Hermione looked tearful. "Draco, I'm sorry. I never knew."

"Few did," Draco said, patting her hand. "Mother told me when I was older. I found the picture books. There was this picture of Elbereth bringing out this huge cake— enough to feed an extended family of forty. There were only two candles on it. Mum held me in her arms, and father— was _smiling_. Really smiling. I hadn't seen him smile like that until today, when he saw with his own eyes that Severus was alive."

"That's how you knew it was real," Hermione whispered.

Draco nodded. "I did some really horrible things to you, Hermione. Said horrible things. Stood by as horrible things were done to you, and yet, somehow you forgave me all that. I beg you, please forgive my father— let him get to know you as I did."

Hermione closed her eyes and touched Draco's hand. "He's welcome here for as long as he needs. He and your mother. We will protect him." She looked at Severus, who nodded to her.

A crash came from down the hall as Lucius broke something else. "He's **_dead_** , do you hear me? **_DEAD!_** "

"Yes, Mr Malfoy, I heard you," Healer Faulkner soothed. "Drink this, please."

Hermione shook her head. "Besides, Kingsley wants us doing our job here and not rampaging around out there. He doesn't want Dumbledore to get wind of us, not even rumours, and that is better done here, deep in the domain of goblins."

"Granger, if I had to work here, I'd be set," Draco snickered. "This place is _amazing_. If I didn't know we were underground, I'd swear we were floating above the sea like the mythical Atlantis."

"You are on the permanent guest list, Malfoy," Hermione said. "Don't be a stranger."

"No risk of that," Draco laughed and then sobered. "If mum and dad are here too, well, even more reason."

"Hey, what am I, chopped hippogriff?" Harry pouted.

"You're on the list too, you mop-haired git," Hermione snorted, giving him a shove.

Harry smiled, but his face was haunted. "I wasn't sure and all after everything we've discovered. You were sort of forced to be my friend."

Hermione shook her head. "No, Harry. I _chose_ to be your friend— Dumbledore simply made sure I never forgot that choice. Perhaps he had no idea what friendship truly was. I would not have abandoned you to fate."

"You chose to be friends with Ron too," Harry mused, frowning.

"Chalk that one up to simple friendless desperation in my first year," Hermione snorted, causing Harry to laugh.

"You're really okay with it? We're good?" Harry asked rather tentatively.

"We're good, Harry. You were almost a victim too."

Harry smiled broadly. "I'd hate to think I'd gone through all that not dying to lose all of my best mates."

"Yeah, just don't expect me to sit and talk about Quidditch with you every Thursday night," Hermione said with a shudder.

"Awww!"

"No!"

"But it's _Quidditch_!"

"Yeah, and?"

"Not fair. You can fly without a broom, and you _still_ don't like Quidditch." Harry pouted.

"If anything, flying without a broom only proves to me how silly it is to straddle a stick and chase a small golden flying ball just to encourage your inner suicidal ideations," Hermione reasoned, arching a brow.

"Wouldn't that be the Bludger?" Harry asked.

"No, the Bludger would have homicidal ideations," Draco said.

Harry frowned. "You've been spending _way_ too much time with Hermione."

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione hissed, chasing him out into the garden with a cloud of summoned birds with shiny, sharpened beaks.

"Ahh! Mercy! Mercy!" Harry cried disappearing into the garden.

"Think she'll forgive him before dinner?" Draco asked.

Severus stroked his chin. "He might be having his dinner in the lagoon."

"Right, middle name," Draco mused. "Always worse."

Severus raised a brow. "Indeed."

* * *

"Forgive me, madam," Lucius said, bowing his head down as he lightly brought Hermione's hand to his mouth. "Our history has been atrocious, and I fear I have destroyed your guest room."

"Not to worry," Hermione said with a small shrug. "That was just the isolation room for Healer Faulkner. He— predicted your reaction would probably be deeply emotional, and apparently that means breaking things for recovering magical people."

"Come now, Madam Snape," Healer Faulkner scoffed from the garden seating. "You tend to _eat_ your problems. That tends to have a certain amount of messy cleanup as well."

Hermione shook her head. "I'll have you know I have dealt with quite a few problems without taking my teeth to it."

"Or claws?" Faulkner asked.

"Sometimes even both," Hermione said with a wink.

"Hrr," Severus growled, snaking his arm around Hermione's waist and pulling her close.

Hermione squeaked and purred against him. "Hi."

"I fear I must apologise to you as well, Healer Faulkner," Lucius said. "I was not at my best."

"Oh, that punch to my face was _quite_ powerful, Mr Malfoy," Faulkner replied, causing Lucius to tug uncomfortably at his collar.

"I do not make a habit of— slugging healers," Lucius said.

"I should hope not, Mr Malfoy," Faulkner chuckled. "All of us would be too busy staunching the bleeding and resetting our noses instead of healing our patients."

Lucius shifted in embarrassment, much to Faulkner's amusement.

 _Pop_.

"Dinner is ready!" a petite female house-elf announced. "Please make your way to the table!" She popped away again almost instantly, not even waiting for a response.

"You will stay, won't you, Healer Faulkner?" Hermione asked, giving him her best appealing eyes.

Faulkner bowed his head deferentially. "I would be honoured, Madam Snape."

"That's going to take some getting used to," Lucius said, but his expression was of pleasure and wonder rather than disgust.

Severus tilted his head. "I am still adjusting to the influx of previously-lost memories myself," he confessed.

"You seem," Lucius began, searching for words, "very content, Severus. I find I am quite pleased to see it."

Severus shrugged slightly. "I am glad you are here to be pleased, Lucius. Last I saw you— your only concern was the life of your son."

Lucius nodded. "I think you are right, Severus. I think emotion is what Dumbledore cannot fathom the strength of it. He can manipulate it— guide it in a direction, but in the end, it was my desire to protect my son that broke the compulsion just enough to break free. Not completely, but enough."

"It was Hermione's compassion for all people that drove her to help me— despite not remembering our past together," Severus said. "Because of it, many things have since become possible."

"I would prefer it be possible to string that old man up by his toes and have him flogged. I would even be willing to let that Argus Filch do it."

"Now, now, Lucius," Severus purred. "Let's not get over-reactive, hrm?"

"Good— Severus did you ask for Indian tonight?" Lucius said, changing the subject as he tried not to drool.

"I fear that our new house-elf decided on her own what we wanted for dinner, Lucius," Severus mused gesturing at him to find a seat next to Narcissa.

"My compliments," Healer Faulkner praised. "I think you are trying to lure me into permanent service with tandoori prawns."

"Is it working, Healer Faulkner?" Kingsley chuckled from the head of the table.

"You may lose me, Minister," Faulkner chuckled, waving a brightly-coloured prawn at him. "Due to my stomach."

"Isn't that the way," Kingsley sighed. "How are you feeling, Lucius?"

"Positively wrathful, Minister," Lucius said darkly. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, it wasn't your fault. I am still— coming to terms with half of my life being a misdirected lie forced on me for someone else's greater good."

"If I hear the phrase "greater good" one more time, I fear I might go into convulsions, myself," Kingsley said, shaking his head in disgust. "I would, however, recommend that you and Lady Narcissa enjoy the Snape's hospitality for a time. The less our quarry knows is changing, the better."

"Madam Snape has been kind enough to encourage us to do so," Narcissa said with a smile. "I do not think anyone would ever think to look for us deep in the lowermost caverns of Gringott's."

"Had I not seen it for myself, I would be hard pressed to believe as well," Lucius said. "This really is quite the home, my old friend."

"This was not us," Severus said. "It was the goblins."

"Regardless of who built it— they customised this to you. Of this, I have little doubt. I recognise your dream made form, Severus."

"Ironically, this place was not built with me in mind," Severus said with an arched brow. "It was built to essentially seduce Hermione into working for the goblins."

"It worked, apparently," Narcissa said, bowing her head to Hermione. "I would have taken them up on it too."

"Narcissa! All that work into the estate— are you saying I should I build you a pyramid?"

"No, husband," Narcissa said with her chin tilted up. "I'm saying you should have built us a floating island paradise."

"Oh, is that all," Draco muttered, his mouth full of crab curry.

"Draco, for Merlin's sake," Lucius chided. "Have you lost all semblance of manners since becoming an Auror?"

"Hey," Kingsley protested. "Becoming an Auror does not automatically evict one's manners."

"Draco, darling," Narcissa purred. "Please be a dear and tell us what your plans are with the Weasley girl."

Draco sputtered, quickly covering his mouth in an attempt to avoid covering Hermione with bits of curried crab. " ** _Mother!_** "

Hermione plucked a piece of crab out of her hair. "I take it this discussion has not reached a conclusion yet?"

"I sent you a very strongly-worded 'no-way-in-Hades', father," Draco accused.

"You know your mother, Draco," Lucius replied smoothly. "She questions every truth you've brought to her since you were seven and lied to her about what happened to her lingerie catalogs."

Draco flushed. "Father, this is _not_ the place to talk about matters like that."

"Oh, by all means," Severus said, smirking. "Please continue."

"I have not, nor shall I ever, woo, wed, or otherwise touch the Weaselette, not even with a twelve-foot wand."

"Ah, there you see, my son? Was that really so hard?"

Draco glared at his father and promptly stuffed a potato samosa in his mouth.

Kingsley snickered as he nibbled on a wedge of naan with interest.

"Kingsley, for your service to our family— something you were not obligated to do," Lucius said, "I feel I must tell you that back when I and Narcissa were courting, we once paid a visit to a rather beautiful island that Cygnus and Orion Black kept as their summer holiday estate. At the time, Sirius Black was supposedly an outcast from his family— or perhaps he was, I cannot be sure— but the amount of enchantments on the place were enough to conceal it from Muggles as well as the Wizarding eye."

"Orion Black was convinced that he had to be prepared for anything," Narcissa said. "The only way you could get there was by either having Black blood in your veins so you would be able to Apparate there, a Portkey imbued with Black blood in its making, or to have really random, stupid, luck and somehow manage to fly into it— that last being not terribly likely as it is located in the middle of nowhere. Even the birds seem to have great difficulty getting back to their nests if they happen to stray too far away."

"Now that sounds like a place to start searching," Kingsley said thoughtfully.

"You have to have Black blood to get there?"

"No, I think you have to have Black blood to get past the outer wards— or have a Portkey."

"How does he… I mean, did he, power the wards?"

"I am not really sure," Narcissa said. "My father took us there, and I fear at that time, I was paying more attention to other things than how we got there. However—" Narcissa smiled. "I am a Black as well as a Malfoy, and that gives you my Draco."

All eyes turned to Draco, who had half of a prawn sticking out of his mouth.

"MFFF! **_WHAT?!_** Why do you choose **_now_** to stare at me!"

Harry clapped Draco on the shoulder and grinned wolfishly. "I think we have some planning to do, partner. After dinner, though. We need to take our time on it, so we do not risk tipping our hand to those who may not be quite as dead as they would prefer us to believe."

Draco looked thoughtful. "Tell me, Potter. You spent time with my cousin in intimate closeness. Did you pick up any habits that we might use against him?"

"Other than his need to shag a new bird of the week?"

Draco shook a curry soaked piece of naan at him. "What kind of birds?"

"I dunno. Blondes mostly. But he also had a thing about long raven tresses blowing in the wind. He was rather crude, actually, I tried not to pay attention."

Minerva, who was actually dining in her human form, had a rather sly look upon her face. "I happen to remember quite well the kind of girls I frequently caught Mr Black with. From the dimples down to their curves. Pity you don't have someone who has a talent for human transfiguration. What an impression you might make upon Mr Black, should you sneak into his notice."

"But, we're men—" Draco muttered. "That won't work."

Severus thwapped Draco upside the head with the palm of his hand (yay Gibbs!) and scowled. "Do pay attention, Draco, and kindly wake up your inner Slytherin. I would hate to think all those years of private tutoring I gave you haven't simply blown out of your ears, boy."

Narcissa grinned at Minerva. "Oh! This could be marvelous fun. I could doll them up properly."

Minerva winked. "I think we have a plan."

"Plan?" Harry boggled. " _What_ plan?"

Lucius shook his head slowly. "It is sad when the penultimate Gryffindor tabby cat is more Slytherin than my own flesh and blood."

"What is this plan?" Draco and Harry yelled together, looking more than a little fearful.

"Harry," Hermione purred, the tip of her rasp-like tongue flicked out over her rather pointed leonine teeth. "You still have all those dresses Ginny left back at your place, yes?"

"Yeah, sure. But what..."

"I think you need to go home and make a big fuss about how Ginny was cheating on you. Have a good, loud rant about it. Pack up all of her dresses, and carry them out of Grimmauld Place, saying you can't even stand to look at the place anymore— now that Sirius and Ginny are long gone. Bring them over here, and then the fun can begin."

Lucius leaned over to Severus, grinning madly. "Oh, I definitely approve of this one, Severus. She's downright Slytherin."

"What is going on?" Harry moaned.

"Oh, Merlin," Draco whispered, his grey eyes wide with horror. "You can't _possibly_ mean—"

"Mean? Mean what? Malfoy!" Harry shook Draco, his green eyes imploring him to start making sense.

"I really _hate_ high heels," Draco groaned, holding his head in his hands.

* * *

"How the hell do you walk in these things?" Harry moaned, freezing as his long, sumptuous curls shaded his face.

Minerva thumped him on the stomach. "Stomach in, Potter. Chin up, and walk on the tips of your toes like a lady."

"I am _not_ a lady!"

"You are now," Draco sighed, his voice a disorientingly smooth, feminine voice.

Harry poked Draco in the chest with his finger. "How the hell— **_oh, Merlin!_** " Harry wrenched his hand away and flushed brightly as he realised he was poking Draco's now very female breast. "How are you taking this so well?"

"Do not mistake my greater experience in this hellishly uncomfortable situation as "taking it well"," Draco hissed. "Proudfoot took me on a stakeout. **_I_** was the bait."

Harry gaped at him. "That's just not right."

"What? It worked. We arrested that idiot who simply couldn't keep it in his pants. Apparently rutting in an alley with some stranger meant more than maintaining a low profile." Draco sniffed, shaking his head, but somehow he made it look feminine and even attractive.

Harry gaped at him and then abruptly turned the other way.

Draco sighed. "Did I ever tell you how Granger and I finally made up?"

Harry perked. "No, I'd just assumed the two of you beat on each other until you felt better."

"Thought she just punched me in the face a few times, yeah?" Draco snorted.

"It _was_ a logical assumption," Harry commented.

"She probably thought so too, but somehow she managed not to," Draco muttered. "She helped smuggle my parents out of Britain," Draco confessed. "They weren't sentenced to Azkaban, but there were a _lot_ of people, Death Eaters included, who really wanted them dead. Hermione dressed them up as Muggles— put them on a train and arranged for some airfare to get them out of Britain. She got them out. She didn't even ask. I'd come groveling."

"Even after all I'd done, I knew that she, of all people, could keep them safe. Father didn't talk to her the entire time. Couldn't meet her eyes. Mum… well, my mum had never met Hermione save that little episode with the Snatchers, and she wasn't really thinking too clearly then. I don't even think Mother realised who she was. Even without her memories of how she had become so strong, she was still strong. She was still powerful. And even with her arm carved up, countless traumas— being tortured on my parents' floor. Even after all that, she stood tall, while my parents stared at the ground and _wished_ they could be like her."

Draco stared out the window. "She stared my father down— gazing into his soul, perhaps. For the first time, my father was ashamed— even without knowing about the spells Dumbledore placed on him. He waited for Hermione to judge him as the scum of the earth. She put them in this house in London at first. Small place. White walls, very Muggle. There were all these pictures with empty spaces, as though there used to be something there. They stayed there for a month while she brought them food and supplies. Then, when she arranged for transportation, she dressed them up and smuggled them out."

"Death Eaters burned the place to the ground— remnants of the war. Burnt that house to cinders just because she put my parents there and someone had found out. Somehow. I think— perhaps father was not used to roughing it without magic. Perhaps, he used some magic in a place where magic did not belong. Whatever the reason, they saw it in the papers while on the train."

"She said nothing. She crumpled the paper in her hands and burnt it to cinders without a sound. As she put them on the plane with instructions on who to meet, she looked at me and said, 'These are your parents. The only ones you'll ever have. As long as you have them, it will not matter where they live only that they do. No one, not even you, Malfoy, deserves to have that taken from you when they risked their lives to ensure your life. Misguided as it may have been, but it was love just the same'."

"I found her that night, after I Apparated back to Britain— sitting in the charred remains of what I had only just then realised had been her family home— completely knackered. I dragged her away, washed her up, got her a bucket, cleaned up the mess, and let her cry. I forced her to eat. I forced her to drink. I let her hit me. I let her scream. I let her— grieve. I realised then, just how much she had lost and how much I had taken from her— not all directly but through shameful inaction. And in that space of tears and physical abuse, which I was used to, as you understand after seeing my father's reaction to treatment— I groveled. She forgave me."

"Her parents had a cottage in Cornwall, and I helped her make it a home again. Ward it up. Rebuild the walls and even introduce ourselves to the local mail carrier. Muggles were her neighbours. Good people. Oblivious, but good people. Viktor came too. We built the place together, expanding it, making a real home. By the time it was done, Hermione had cut all ties with the Weasel— realising he was toxic, but she didn't tell you. She knew you still needed him."

"Kingsley hired her the moment the war was over, but you know Shacklebolt. He gave her all the time she needed, and was rewarded with that kind of loyalty that Hermione is so good at. By the end of it, we had become friends. I grew up, and she— was finally free."

Harry was sniffling horribly, wiping tears from his face. "Damnit! What's with the— I never— **_ARGH!_** " Harry sniffled and looked for a tissue.

"Girl hormones," Draco mused. "McGonagall was pretty thorough."

"Agh! Give me someone to punch, so I can earn my testosterone back," Harry sniffled.

"Would you like to build a stone wall with your bare hands, perhaps mow a lawn with nothing but a hand-scythe?" Draco mused. "Sleep in a pile of Quidditch memorabilia while quaffing butterbeer and bathing in Firewhisky?"

"It would make me feel a _little_ less feminine, yes," Harry muttered.

Draco's lips turned up in a smile. "I'll get you a cheese log and beer pretzels in one of those oversized bowls the Muggles like to fill up during rugby games when this is all over."

Harry sighed, "Thanks."

* * *

"Hey there, kitten. You looking for a good time?"

Draco turned, batting his eyelashes—impossibly long eyelashes that practically screamed of the talented touch of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Look, Dahlia," Harry cooed, pulling on every memory of the Beauxbatons accents and what Fleur had pitched in at the "Let's turn Draco and Harry into a pair of sexy witches" party. "Ze man taw-king to you."

"Ahh! A French lady," the black-haired wizard purred, bringing Harry's hand to his lips. "Well hello, beautiful."

Harry flushed and fanned himself.

"What brings you lovely ladies to the arse end of nowhere, hrm?"

"Ze travel madam told us— best salt and pepper shrimp on ze coast."

"Aww, kitten. You shouldn't restrict yourself to such sorrowful fare. I know a place where you can have the absolute _best_ coconut-lime shrimp and a stunning mango-peach jalapeno sauce. Family recipe."

"Ha, ha, you sound like you have an island, monsieur," Harry gushed.

The male wizard grinned cheekily. "Maybe I do, kitten. Would you like to join me?"

"Ahhh, we couldn't impose on such a charming gentleman as yourself," Draco cooed.

"We'll have great fun together, lovely ladies. I can guarantee it. You'll never forget the experience, trust me."

Draco smiled sweetly. "How could we _possibly_ turn down such a perfectly delightful invitation?"

* * *

"OOooaaaa! What a place!" Harry cried, managing to sound both amazed and struggling for words to express it.

"You haven't seen anything yet, pretty kitten."

"Ahh, Sirius, welcome— oh, hello, ladies," rumbled a somewhat perturbed-looking Dumbledore. His skin was darkly tanned, his long silver hair and beard were intricately braided and he had some sort of drink with a slice of lemon for a garnish in his hand. "My friend, what have we said about bringing home strays, hrm?"

"Oh, stop worrying, Al— Angus," Sirius said, giving him a glare. "These two lovely ladies and I were about to gather ourselves a picnic basket and head off to enjoy the private beach."

"Oh!" said Harry, flushing as he beat his fan across his face. "Iz zis your fa-thair?"

"Fa—" Sirius made a choking sound in the back of his throat. "Why yes, kitten, he is. Sometimes he gets a bit senile and calls me different names each day. Yesterday it was Frank. The day before it was Martijn."

"Pleased to meet you," Draco cooed, tossing his mane of silver-blonde hair just so.

"Mind the wards, Sirius," Dumbledore warned in a low growl.

"Oh, father," Sirius dripped sweetness. You know I haven't forgotten the keys to the house in weeks."

Dumbledore eyed the two beautiful women on Sirius' arms and turned away with a derisive snort. "Far too feminine for my taste," he muttered, wandering off.

"What zid 'ee mean?" Harry asked, batting his eyelashes. "Far too feminine?"

"Oh, you know dad—" Sirius said lightly, trying to redirect the conversation. "He fancies rather... man—ly women. I assure you, when it comes to the ladies, I am _fully_ functional."

"Oh my," both women gasped girlishly, fanning themselves.

* * *

Damn that Sirius.

Him and his bloody birds. You didn't see _him_ bringing home blokes to enjoy the sunsets and beaches with.

Still, this island was in the middle of nowhere, and the birds would be Obliviated the instant they left, so their secret would remain safe. He just wished Sirius would get it out of his system and learn to enjoy life a little less riskily.

They hadn't gone through all that work just so he could bring it crashing down, after all. Albus had covered up Sirius' little almost-murders of his classmates— sure they had all been Slytherin students and he had almost succeeded in Severus' case. He had confunded Minerva on multiple occasions so she wouldn't notice various unsavory things going on right under her little feline nose— a most difficult task, indeed. Cats were, well... cats!

Severus' untimely death, however, would not have forwarded the plan. He needed a spy, and the only way his greater good— the final end of Tom Riddle and the erasure of his greatest mistake— would ever come to fruition would be if Severus was there to be his agent on the inside of Tom's inner circle. In order for that to happen, he had to be kept isolated and desperate. He had to make a line of horrible mistakes. Albus had to be seen as his only means to find salvation.

Much to his embarrassment, Albus hadn't realised that Severus had taken on Miss Granger as his apprentice. When he finally came to suspect it, quite some time later, he decided that was a good thing. Granger needed all the training she could get to help keep Harry alive. Then, when he realised that Granger was paying less attention to maintaining her friendship with Harry and Ronald, which she _SHOULD_ have stayed focused on, he gave her a little shove back in the required direction. It had been hard, considering that Ronald Weasley had emotionally tormented her to the point of heading up to throw herself off the Astronomy Tower. A little Obliviate, some memory tweaking, and she was right back on track. Later he improved it more by giving her an inexplicable fascination with the Weasley boy, and he had suggested to Mr Weasley that he should make sure to pat Hermione on the shoulder when he apologised— and all would be well.

Granger had started to shake off the spell, however. Albus had to move quickly to tweak it some more. She could only forgive so much under the old spell, so he had to make it considerably stronger. Finally, he had to anchor his spell to the Weasley bloodline— at least then, with the entire family unwittingly reinforcing the spell, Hermione would continue to forgive and forget— at least when it came to her silly conniptions that Ronald was anything but a perfectly fine bloke. Harry Potter needed Ronald to be his male friend of note. He needed Hermione to keep them both alive. Albus would not allow Granger to reason her way out the Golden Trio, as they had come to be known.

When he next met with his contact in the Hall of Mastery for lunch, the man had let it slip that he was so proud that Dumbledore had such a talented young master scholar at Hogwarts. Ms Granger had— obtained her mastery under Severus Snape. Albus had cooed and agreed, nodding his head as if he had seen it all along, and then he had gone back to Hogwarts and started to pay attention to all the little things that spoke of a deeper relationship between his spy and Ms Granger. Small glances, little touches, the softening of expressions in a man whose expressions ranged from terse to disdain and downright surly— Albus realised that this new Master Granger had thawed Snape's heart and given him hope for a future. A future with _her_.

And that would not do at all.

He let her keep her relationship with Minerva— she was at least a proper Gryffindor. It was a respectable mentorship. But Severus, no. Absolutely not. That simply had to go. True, the things she learned— all of that would help with keeping Potter safe, and that was fine. She could keep those memories, but Snape— no. He would never tolerate her meddling with his spy.

Snape had to have nothing to lose. He had to have nothing to live for. He had to remain free of all attachments so he would willingly sacrifice his life for his master's cause.

So he had called Miss Granger to his office and hit her with a powerful Obliviate— but she had fought it. She had been ready for it. She struggled. And her master had come up by his own invitation, only to find her writhing on the floor of his office, fighting the Obliviate tooth and claw, with everything she had.

To add to the guilt, Snape had to suppress her memories to save her from the struggle. He had been the hand of her amnesia. It was perfect. Then— as he cradled his mind-wiped apprentice in his arms— Albus had Obliviated Snape. Neither remembered each other. Everything was then restored to where it needed to be.

And it had worked.

Albus had been "murdered." Snape had died giving his final message to Harry Potter. Potter had realised he had to die to defeat Tom— die and come back again. Albus had worked hard on that little mental hallucination that would be triggered at his near-death. And Granger had kept him and the Weasley boy alive the entire time.

Rumour said she had worked at the Ministry for awhile, but had gotten disgruntled with the way things were run. None of his contacts had seen her there in quite some time. She had apparently disappeared off into the ether. Oh well, her purpose was served and done. Harry had become a hero. Weasley had been seen enjoying his time in spotlight, indulging in the Knockturn Alley nightlife in the company of several nubile young witches. No one knew that Albus was alive. Whatever they may have thought of him, good or bad, he was safe in his retirement, and Sirius was safely out of Azkaban and staying that way— especially since Harry had been kind enough to seek a posthumous pardon for his "innocent godfather." True, he had arranged for Snape to be pardoned and herofied as well, but at least Snape was dead and wouldn't get to enjoy it.

With Kreacher bringing them plenty of food and drink every week and taking care of the place, they wanted for nothing. They could live off the radar forever— if only Sirius would stop bringing those sodding birds home!

He never could resist those long-haired, long-legged blondes and those sultry beauties with lush raven curls. They didn't make for acceptable eye-candy for Albus, but he hadn't even thought about indulging in a romantic relationship for quite some time.

Now, the only thing left was locating the cache of magical artifacts he had left with Ronald Weasley to sell off and filter back into his purely Muggle Swiss bank account. What he had was enough for the moment, but he had lost his Hogwarts pension due to being "dead."

According to the talk in the Headmistress' office, they had used the funds to help rebuild Hogwarts and renamed the new communal common room after him. What a waste of perfectly good galleons. In hindsight, he should have had it willed to one of his hidden charities, but he supposed he would take a day off and find the cache now that Mr Weasley was in Mungo's. He had put a tracer on them, and last he had checked, they had been at Gringott's. Weasley probably had them on him when he attempted to use the Portkey and accidentally triggered the defensive Obliviate.

According to Kreacher, Harry had no leads and the investigation had stalled completely. And dear Ginevra had apparently left him, making for a very angry and distracted young man. That was simply perfect as far as he was concerned. Give it few more months, and no one would even remember the incident in favour of more important matters than further investigating the alleged criminal activities of a now-amnesiac Ronald Bilius Weasley.

"Oh, See-ree-us," came a bell-like feminine cry. "Mon-sewer, I do not like to be tied down!"

Dumbledore sighed. Maybe he should go to the other side of the island to admire the frigatebirds, before Sirius got out the fuzzy handcuffs and canoe paddles.

"Aw, come back, kitten," Sirius pleaded. "It'll be much better with the three of us, I promise!"

Dumbledore stood up. "Definitely time to make myself scarce."

"What's the hurry, professor?" a lovely feminine voice greeted from the doorway. "We'd just brought out the silk rope." The raven-haired woman brushed her curls away from her face with one hand. Her other hand pointed a wand directly between his eyes.

"You'll be happy to know that I survived the war, Professor," Harry said, giving a dainty shrug. However, you probably didn't really care, yeah? Just as long as Tom Riddle died in the final battle."

Harry stared into Dumbledore's shocked blue eyes. "Professor McGonagall said you were supposedly quite fond of me, but if I ever needed to talk— she would be there. I pushed them all away, thinking no one understood me nearly as well as you did. I. Trusted. You. I. _BELIEVED_ in you. But you just used me as a tool to fix the horrible mistake that _you_ made, a gross error in judgment that ended up costing so many innocent lives. And since you were dead, well, you'd paid in full for that mistake, yeah? Only you didn't. You're still standing here. My godfather is out there very much alive. And all I want to ask you is _why_."

"Harry—"

"But I won't, because nothing you will say will _ever_ be the truth, will it, Professor?" Harry said.

Dumbledore turned suddenly, making a dash for the opposite door.

 ** _Thump!_**

The paralysed, bound, and half-nude body of Sirius Black landed right in front of him. A dour-looking, blonde witch pointed her wand at Dumbledore. "In a bit of a hurry, Headmaster?"

"Langlock."

" _Stupefy_."

" _Petrificus Totalis._ "

" _Incarcerous_."

As Dumbledore fell back, stunned, petrified and bound in magical cords, Draco pulled out something from his purse and tapped it with his wand and enlarging it.

 ** _SPLAT!_**

A lemon meringue pie slid down a petrified Dumbledore's face. Draco stared down at him. "You are under arrest, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence against you before the Wizengamot."

Harry stared at Draco, one eyebrow twitching.

" _What?_ " Draco stared back at him unrepentantly. "There's a tranquiliser in it."

Harry's eyebrow continued to twitch. "Let's get them out of here." He pulled out a stone from his pocket and threw it on the ground. He lifted his book and brought his foot down, smashing it, and a series of complex arithmantic spells came gushing forth and created a supernova of magic that blasted outward, ripping apart the island's wards like peeling the layers of an onion. Glowing wards flowed out behind the dispelling magic, slamming into place with a searing release of magic.

 ** _Shing!_**

 ** _SHING!_**

 ** _Shingggggg!_**

Auror after Auror Apparated in, immediately seizing control and locking down the area with practiced precision.

"Potter, Malfoy," Savage greeted, making hand signals for the teams to spread out and secure each area, grid by grid. "Good work. Simmons. Aenders. Escort these two to lockup. Strip them down to their skivvies. I don't want a wand or some other magical device turning up to bite us in the arse later."

"Yes, sir!" the Aurors chimed.

"The rest of you," Savage barked. "Tear this place apart. I want it all in stasis and in the vaults as of yesterday!"

"Yes, sir!"

A few wizards drew out strangely Muggle-looking devices, using their wands to guide them in the air as they took pictures of everything.

 _Flash._

 _Flash. Flash._

 _FLASH!_

An Auror with a regular Wizarding camera took a picture of the room— including that of Draco and Harry as women.

"You come back here with that camera, Stevens!" Harry hissed, storming off in his high heels.

"Not on your life, Potter! This is going up in the break room!"

"Fuck!"

"Language, Potter!"

"I'm going to impale you with my antlers!"

There was the sound of a stag bleating and crashing noises shortly after.

Draco looked into the next room and sighed. "Someone get the crowbar. Potter got himself stuck in a wall again."

"Hey, Malfoy, why don't you seem to care that we have pictures of you as a woman?"

Draco grinned evilly. "Because **_I_** make it look natural." He tossed his blonde hair just so, smiling so brightly that even his teeth sparkled, and every man in the room practically fell over themselves or dropped whatever they were holding at the time.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore, dressed in nothing but a drab grey pair of pants, shifted uncomfortably under the gaze of one exceedingly teed-off silver tabby. She perched on the nearby solitary desk that normally had an Auror watching him very closely at all times.

"Minerva, what a relief to see you," Albus sighed. "I had meant to send you word, but things kept getting in the way. Sirius required such constant care to stay out of trouble—"

The silver tabby made a hissing sound, teeth bared.

"Surely, you can understand, Minerva," he continued. "Things had to play out just right or Tom would have won."

The silver tabby lay its head down and stared narrowly at him.

"Lay off it, Albus, they know," Sirius grunted from the next cell over. "They _know_."

"Sirius, they couldn't possible know the real reason," Albus insisted. "As I was trying to tell Minerva—"

"That you spent years covering up for the fact that I almost murdered a fellow student via werewolf? All so you could get that nice little spell to fake your death from my mum's old grimoire? That you found it that night I tested it on poor Slytherin Rossa as my ultimate prank? You never could watch something so useful simply pass you by."

Sirius snorted. "Best thing was they buried her, thinking she was dead. Served her right for spurning me. But instead of someone finding out about my little prank, somehow no one _ever_ found out. Suddenly, I was being protected at the school, no matter what I did. Don't think I didn't notice this, Albus. While you were using me, I was happily cashing in."

"Don't think I wasn't wise to that," Albus said.

"Yet you continued to let it happen."

"For the greater good, my boy. It had to be done."

"Psh, I'm sure catnip-breath over there will understand that being Obliviated every single time she tried to help Snivellus will go over really well. Why, you lounged on an island paradise all this time and somehow didn't have 'time' to so much as send her a bloody postcard."

"Sirius, I don't really think it's wise for you—"

"What, Albus? They already _know_. She obviously already knows. Look at that angry look. The look of feline death in her eyes. We're sitting here in a holding cell, almost in our sodding starkers, and you think they haven't figured it out?"

"They need evidence, Sirius, and they aren't going to get any. The spell doesn't even exist as far as they know, and the only way they'd know is if you can't keep your mouth shut."

"I don't even know where you hid that damn grimoire, Albus." Sirius made a disgusted sound. "I couldn't tell someone if I wanted to."

"Good," Albus replied. "One less thing you can blab."

Sirius scoffed and rolled over on his cot.

The door clanked, and the two prisoners hushed. An Auror walked in with a large mug of coffee and a sandwich. "Oh, there you are Broomstick," he cooed. "Watching our prisoners for us?"

The silver tabby stood up and purred, rubbing up against his hand and swishing its tail.

"Ah, there's a good old man," he said with a grin. "Your lunch is in the other room, Broomie. Off ya go."

"Mrowl!" the cat said, jumping down off the desk and padding out the door, tail waving behind him.

"Good one, Albus."

"Shut it, Sirius."

"Both of you just shut it," the Auror said, eating his sandwich.

Broomstick the tabby jumped up onto the counter in the next room as Kingsley, Auror Savage, and handful of officials watched from behind the one-way glass that had been charmed to look like an ordinary stone wall.

"Good job there, Broomstick," Savage praised, taking the listening device off of his collar. "What do you think, gentleman?"

The officials nodded amongst each other. "We need to find that grimoire."

* * *

"Lights out, Gamion," Auror Stevens yawned. "Put those two in stasis and call it a night."

"Yes, sir," Stevens said, tracing a complex rune on the panel nearby. "Goodnight, you two bellyachers," he said as he stood up to leave. "Your Wizengamot trial will be on Friday. It'll be good riddance to bad rubbish." He engaged the stasis spell, brought up the monitoring wards, and closed the door. Soon after, a shimmering blue tertiary field of magic shimmered in place.

The room went dark, save for the soft glow of magic surrounding the two cells. A movement just outside the cells shimmered as a goblin removed his invisibility cloak, his sharp teeth bared fearsomely in what might have been an expression of exultation or displeasure. He pulled out a crystal, tapped it, and a dark purple glow began to emerge from it. The shimmering magic around the cells promptly wavered and faded.

The goblin sneered, pulling a couple objects out of his pocket and placing them between the bars: a small tin of lemon sherbets and an advance copy of next month's Playwizard magazine, the highly-coveted swimsuit issue. He placed them next to the two unconscious wizards' heads and wrinkled his nose in distaste. He tugged a miniature scroll out of his pocket, stuffed it behind Albus' ear, and sniffed, examining his handiwork for a moment.

He withdrew the purple crystal, pocketing it, as the magical wards snapped back in place. Baring his teeth, he pulled out a silver pocket watch, turned the winding pin, and vanished.

* * *

Albus landed in a puddle of water, and Sirius landed right on top of him, knocking the breath out of both.

"Merlin, I _hope_ that's water," Sirius groaned.

"Looks like we've been busted out," Albus said unnecessarily.

"Thanks for the update, Albus," Sirius responded, snorting rudely.

"Kindly remove yourself from my person, Sirius," Albus grunted. "I'd rather not spend any more time staring at this sodding puddle than absolutely necessary."

Sirius snorted again and pushed himself off the ground, taking an extra moment to use Albus as a convenient springboard.

"Ah, thank you," Albus sighed. "I've been meaning to see a healer about my back. Feels much better now."

"I didn't bloody well do it for you."

Albus stood up and looked around. "Hrm, if I were to hazard a guess, I would say we are in Gringott's.

Rushing waterfalls roared nearby as a dragonet screeched hungrily, begging for a food offering. The low beat of powerful wings reverberated in the air as a large drake landed nearby and stuffed food into the hungry dragonet's eager mouth before flying away. Only the tunnel was between them and being seen by the dragons— hungry dragons raising dragonets.

"Odd, I don't remember hearing anything about dragons roosting in or under Gringott's," Albus said with a frown. "If this is the dragon guarded level on this map, then we are close to the path to find our things."

"What "things", Albus? They took _everything_. I doubt they could put an entire bloody island down here." Sirius rubbed his shoulders.

"The evidence they believe will prove our mutual guilt. We take that and any remaining records will be gone. Even if we should face a trial, they won't be able to pin anything on us," Dumbledore said confidently.

"And if they bring out the Veritaserum? What then?"

"You of all people know how to speak in half-truths to get around Veritaserum, Sirius," Albus chided, stroking his beard. "Besides, you have that little bit of Black family magic to protect your mind from any interrogator, no matter how skillful."

Sirius harrumphed and crossed his arms, rubbing his hands down his arms in the chill.

"I do wish our helper had left us some robes along with those Portkeys, though," Albus said. He picked up a rock and wandlessly transfigured it into a set of plum silk robes, drawing them around himself with a sigh of profound relief. Hearing Sirius start to whinge under his breath, Albus picked up another rock and crafted a set of traditional robes for him in a pale lavender with elaborate lace cuffs and collar.

"You've got to be joking me," Sirius hissed. "What the fuck is this shite, Albus?"

"Clothes, I believe," Albus answered. "Feel free to walk around in your skivvies in the chill and damp, dear boy."

Sirius glared at him. "These were at the height of fashion at least three hundred _years_ ago, Albus. At least give me something in leather, dammit."

Albus arched a brow and touched the robes with two fingers, transforming the robes into— some _thing_ made of black patent leather.

"What the _hell_ is this, Albus?" Sirius seethed.

"Something in leather."

"It's a ruddy loincloth!"

"It's leather, just as you requested."

"I swear when we get our spare wands, I'm going to mummify you in hot pink leather, you sadistic old poof."

"Tut, tut," Albus muttered. "We have treasure to find— and a bit of evidence to eradicate."

The trail had them walking ever deeper into the caverns of Gringott's, and by the time they had made their way through the series of perilous dragon-infested zones, neither of them had much energy left for talking, even to nitpick at each other. They had to edge their way along the rails, carefully taking the path the carts would normally take. Neither said much, lest they be distracted and tumble to their deaths in the infinite blackness below.

They found their way through a twisting cavern, guided only by the detail in the map they had been given. By the time the light in the cavern greeted them, they shielded their eyes with a profound sense of relief.

"They _did_ bring a sodding island down here," a wide-eyed Sirius gasped over the roar of the waterfalls.

"Not ours, unfortunately," Albus said. "Pity, it would have made it so much easier to find our things."

Ley energy zinged around the entire island, surrounding the floating island with jagged bolts in rainbow colours. There was only one opening, set between two huge statues of Anubis and the Devourer. The jackal-headed Egyptian god of the Underworld held aloft the feather of Ma'at. The crocodile-headed Devourer stood with maw agape, ready to devour those whose hearts were weighed down by the selfish deeds of a lifetime, making them heavier than the feather. A great archway towered above the two giants— the throne of the mighty Osiris— seating the god whose duty was to oversee the Hall of Final Judgment. Yet, all around them, the ley lines zinged, arced and merged together, almost as though it were the serpent of Chaos Apep— sworn enemy of all that was light and Ma'at.

"What the hell," Sirius said in dazed wonder. "So the goblins value the Egyptian pantheon?"

"You know as much as I do, Sirius," Dumbledore replied.

"How are we ever going to get over there?" Sirius asked, frowning in thought.

"By broom, apparently," Albus said, pointing to a haphazard pile of cast-off brooms.

"Those look about a safe as a rickety rope bridge, Albus."

"Any better ideas, Sirius?"

The two wizards sorted through the meager pickings until each had found himself a broom that stood a reasonable chance of not falling apart halfway to the island.

They were hardly racing-quality brooms, but they did manage to carry the pair across the chasm and through the main gate between the energy walls. The guardian statues leered down upon them as though passing judgment of their own, and they zoomed through the arch quickly lest some other nasty surprise befall them. The brooms started to buck a bit as they got closer, eventually kicking them off. The pair splashed down, cursing, into the water below and were forced to paddle the couple hundred or so meters to the shore.

As the two soaking wet and irritable wizards stuck their brooms in the sand so they could find them again, they stopped to look around. Neither missed the formidable pyramid looming high on the horizon.

"They are keeping our stuff— in a ruddy pyramid?" Sirius muttered. "Don't they realise that the pyramids were robbed?"

"Somehow, I rather doubt if the same ancient architecture went into this one, Sirius," Dumbledore mused.

"Everyone knows that wizards built the pyramids, Albus."

"Yes, well, the Great Pyramid of Giza was some thirty-five hundred years old by the time Hogwarts herself was built."

"And how would _you_ know all this, Albus?" Sirius narrowed his eyes at the older man.

"Oh, back when I was a younger man, I was a typical youth and wanted to solve those wonderful ancient mysteries and become known for bringing the light of knowledge into the world."

"So even as a younger man, you wanted to be the great light bringer to the masses."

"Now, Sirius, what's wrong with being the hero by bringing something good unto the world?"

"When you bring the likes of Tom Riddle into the world and make even my foul parents look like perfectly amiable people!"

Albus frowned. "We _all_ make mistakes, Sirius. You of all people should understand that."

"At least _my_ mistakes didn't run around trying to exterminate most of Great Britain," Sirius groused.

"No, your mistakes only murdered very specific types, didn't it," Albus warned. "Try not to paint yourself as perfectly pristine, Sirius, it doesn't become you."

Sirius snorted, but they continued to walk on together. Despite it all, and all their differences, they were seemingly united on the one front that mattered: their mutual survival. "Let's just get our stuff and get the hell out of here."

"This place looks like a bloody museum," Sirius grumbled, walking past a few statues and plants. As he went by a sitting statue of Anubis, he couldn't resist tweaking one ear.

 ** _Crack!_**

The ear broke off in his hand.

Dumbledore glared at Sirius.

Sirius gestured to the figurine like it had done it on purpose to spite him.

Albus looked around, but nothing in the room seemed to change or sense their intrusion, so he sighed in relief. "Come on, and kindly keep your hands in your pockets, hrm?"

Passing through a garden, they found their way to another door, each door was strangely large, as though something particularly massive had to pass through it. The doors were cracked open, perhaps to allow the breeze through, and they moved into what appeared to be a large living room. Library shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, statues of all kinds adorned the sides, ornate pedestals featured rare magical artifacts, and everything was flawlessly spotless.

The two froze as they walked around one of the larger sculptures to come upon Minerva McGonagall and Lucius Malfoy sitting and enjoying each other's company while having a cup of tea.

"I don't care what you say, Minerva," Lucius drawled. "Slytherin is going to win the Quidditch trophy this year. Gryffindor can't keep it up forever."

"Psh," Minerva scoffed. "After Mr Wilbury and Mr Hutchins both broke their legs crashing into each other from fifty feet up? They are lucky they even get to play next term, thanks to Poppy's efforts on their behalf."

"They will eke out their way to the top, Minerva, even if I have to buy them the best brooms currently on the market to replace the ones they've been using since Draco played seeker for Slytherin.

"Yes!" came a breathy feminine exaltation. "OH YESSSSSS, RIGHT THERE! Ah—AH!—ARRGGHHRRRR!"

There was a leonine roar quickly followed by another more masculine one, as the very walls of the pyramid seemed to sing with magic. Energy crackled in the very air as blue arcs zapped here and there between walls. The air itself seemed to sing jubilantly.

Lucius flushed and stared fixedly into his teacup as if it held all the secrets of the universe.

"Well, Lucius," Minerva said with a wink. "I must say that at least you and Narcissa are somewhat more subdued when reaching the point of boneless bliss."

Lucius flushed a bright red. "My Lady!" he hissed.

"I'm old, not a prude," Minerva answered him with a cheeky wink. "Ah, well. If everyone could create a new ley line like _that_ , we'd be up to our eyeballs in leys by now."

"We almost are," Lucius muttered.

"Here, perhaps," Minerva laughed. "Look at how happy the goblins are," she marveled. "Besides, all the ones here know us, so it's not like they are going to zap the magic out of any of _us_."

"There is that," Lucius agreed. "Still, I wouldn't want to go hugging one."

Albus gestured for Sirius to silently walk back out the way they had come. As they did so, they stumbled into a large sculpture featuring a collection of obnoxiously cute baby animals, from hippogriffs to kittens, fluffy phoenix chicks and puppies.

"I wouldn't touch that one if I were you," a sing-song feminine voice cautioned. "It has a rather nasty habit of turning people into obnoxiously cute and adorable animals. We haven't figured out how to reverse it just yet."

 ** _Ker-ZZZZZZTTT!_**

"Maah!"

"Yip-yip-yip!"

The statue fell to the floor, breaking in half.

Luna Lovegood frowned down at the broken sculpture. "Well, now we _definitely_ won't be able to reserve it."

The pristine white baby goat kid scrambled to move, and the most adorable black teacup Pomeranian tried to get all of his tiny legs moving at once. They slammed into each other a few times, getting all tangled up. They tried to run away and hide in the nearby room.

"I wouldn't go in that room if I were you," Luna cautioned. "The ley lines like to socialise in there before snapping back into place!"

 ** _GRRSSZZZTTTTTTTTTTTZAP!_**

The white baby goat kid and the black teacup Pomeranian puppy tumbled back out of the room arse-over-teakettle, their bodies smoking slightly as energy continued to arc back-and-forth between them.

 ** _ZAP!_**

"Maaah!"

 ** _ZAPZAP!_**

"Yip-yip! YIP!"

The two lay prostrate on the floor, bodies smoking and sparking with residual ley energy.

"Oh dear," Luna said. "I did try to warn you, you see." She sipped her tea thoughtfully, shaking her head in mild dismay.

A set of giant leonine paws entered the room first from the vaults below. The two very satisfied and smug-looking sphinxes shouldered their way into the room, squeezing their wings in through the doorway that was just large enough to allow them to pass without incident.

"Mmm, Severus. You are a true artist," Hermione purred, and the little energy sphinxlets danced merrily around her body and his before zooming off through the walls around them.

"I try," Severus said smugly, licking his feline teeth. "It helps to have such a lovely and inspirational mate."

Massive paws thumped on the floor just in front of the tiny white pygmy goat kid and the even tinier black teacup Pomeranian pup. Dagger-like claws clicked on the floor as they passed.

"Luna!" Hermione joyfully greeted her friend, tackling and mock-mauling the blonde witch to the ground with a loud thump.

"Hello, Hermione!" Luna said, hugging one large leg in greeting. "You had some unexpected guests a bit earlier, and I tried to warn them not to touch the cute sculpture I brought over for you to guard, but they, erm, had a bit of an unfortunate accident."

Severus plucked the miniscule teacup Pomeranian up between two claws and stared at it, his almond-shaped eyes narrowing down his distinctive aquiline nose. The little pup piddled on the spot, dripping urine down his legs and tail as he whimpered in terror.

"Oh, _very_ attractive," he said, his lip curling in disgust.

"I think that one was Sirius Black," Luna supplied helpfully. "I only saw him a few times, you see, so I can't really be sure. Still, he apparently came here with Headmaster Dumbledore." She pointed to the white baby goat. "At least they were until they touched the sculpture."

"Wait, this is—" Severus growled, carefully sniffing the urine-soaked puppy. The puppy promptly piddled itself again. "Why then does he have no magical signature?"

Luna pointed to the next room— a seemingly normal gallery of art with a few notable glowing ley lines that had apparently taken up residence within.

"Both of them?" Hermione asked, plucking the trembling baby goat up between her large talons. The little animal bleated pitifully in terror and did the same as his canine friend: piddled on the spot.

 ** _Pop!_**

 ** _Pop!_**

Two house-elves materialised with a bucket of lemon-scented water, a mop, and clean white towels. They quickly mopped the floor sprayed down the two little animals, and put what looked like a diaper on them both. They bowed silently and disappeared with a **_pop_**.

Minerva and Lucius came over to find out what all the fuss was about.

"Severus," Lucius drawled. "What is that creature in your— paw?"

"Oh, I think you'll be far more interested in the one that is in Hermione's paw, Lucius, my dear old friend." Severus rumbled as he passed Minerva the diapered pup.

"That one is the "late" Sirius Black," he told Minerva with an arched brow.

"And this is the equally not-so-late Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore." Hermione plunked the adorable goat kid into Lucius' waiting arms.

Lucius' lips turned up into a vicious, utterly malevolent smile. "Hello there, Albus. I do believe we have a few things to catch up on."

"Mahhh!" the goat bleated.

"Yip!" the Pomeranian barked.

"Minerva, how sharp are your claws, by chance?" Lucius purred.

"Laddie, I'm a cat. They are even sharper than your Slytherin tongue," Minerva answered with a wicked gleam in her eye.

Lucius grinned widely. "My dear Professor McGonagall. Let us do lunch, hrm?"

* * *

A few months later…

Mrs Ginny Studworthy opened the door to her large Texas estate, refusing to let the servants do it when it was the only chance she got to go outside and get a breath of fresh air between watching her quintuplet daughters. She picked up a neatly wrapped gift box with several holes poked in it, and she eyed it strangely. A small decorative card was attached.

 _Dear Ginny,_

 _Congratulations on your recent marriage._

 _No hard feelings._

 _Hope you like him._

 _Harry_

Ginny opened the small parcel and found the most adorably tiny puppy-shaped fuzzball of cuteness staring up at her with big silver eyes. His miniscule claws were painted Gryffindor red and he wore a matching bow around his neck like a collar. I tiny gold collar was affixed around his neck

 _P.s. due to an accident with a magical artifact, he'll never get bigger than this. You may want to puppify your place._

"Hey there, little darlin'." Her husband walked up the path and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "Whatcha got there?"

"You remember Harry, the guy I told you about?"

"But of course, darlin'," he replied. "He send you this fella?"

"Yeah, a belated wedding gift."

Bryan stared at the card and chuckled. "Well, he says no hard feelings, so I hope that puts that entire fret of yours to rest now."

"You don't mind?"

"Naw, pups are good for the kids. Teaches 'em some responsibility." He winked. "We'll just get him neutered so he doesn't try to hump our AKC registered beagles and create a litter of mutts. Too dang many of those in the shelters as it is."

"Aww, Bryan, you're the best," Ginny said, giving him a kiss.

"I do try, darlin'."

Meanwhile, the little black Pomeranian shivered in her arms at the very thought of getting neutered.

* * *

"Ey there, Aberforth," Hagrid bellowed as he stepped over to the small paddock behind the Hog's Head. "Whatcha got there?"

"Oh, Hagrid, darndest thing," Aberforth said. "Someone sent me a new baby goat. No name, no return address. Just the cutest little thing you ever did see. Note said his mum rejected him and maybe I had a nanny who might look after the little one. I might have to use my horn and hoof polishing spell on him. Take him to a few shows with the Muggles— depends on how he turns out, yeah?"

"He does look pretty cute, Aberforth," Hagrid agreed. "You given any thought to joining us up at Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, I heard that old Binns just floated off one day and never came back," Aberforth said with a shrug. "Odd thing for a ghost, yeah? I told Headmaster Flitwick that I'd be glad to, provided I have a place to keep my goats on the grounds. He said he's going to put in a small barn and paddock for 'em if I take the job."

"It's going to be odd not having Perfesser McGonagall around anymore" Hagrid said sadly. "She's just always been there. I think learnin' the truth about yer brother kinda pushed her to go ahead and retire."

"I've known something was seriously wrong with my stupid brother for years, but it was hard to put a finger on exactly what it was— but I never thought he'd go around mass-Obliviating people and putting compulsions on 'em. What a bad business, that. Then again, he apparently put one on me to collect goats until I ended up going broke. At least now I can say no, yeah? How embarrassing. Healers took some other right nasty little compulsions out too. If he wasn't shipped off to that new maximum security prison off in the Bermuda Triangle, I'd be tempted to murder Albus myself."

"Maaah!" the little white kid bleated.

"Cute little fucker, I'll give it that," Aberforth grunted, stroking his beard. "Any idea where that Scottish witch went off and retired to?"

"Nothing," Hagrid said, shaking his shaggy head. "She writes Perfesser Flitwick and some of the others, but she knows I can't write worth a knut. She's 'appy though. I do know that."

"Good woman, that McGonagall," Aberforth said with a smile. "With the Malfoys back as the cream of the Wizarding crop, some pretty good things are happening in old Hogsmeade again. The tavern here is a respectable business again, and that Lucius didn't even bat an eye about helping me renovate the place. We had beers together, yeah? Just like ordinary blokes. That really means something around here."

Hagrid grinned. "Never thought I'd see that, meself."

"Lots of people going in to check themselves at Mungo's. There are even people going who never met my brother in their life, but they don't remember if they did or not, so they go anyway. Poor healers." Aberforth shook his head. "The new wing at Mungo's helps a lot, from what I've heard. All of it is dedicated to that Healer Faulkner fellow and he runs it too. He's the one that helped me with my brother's damnable compulsions."

"Weasleys are still being treated too," Hagrid said with a sigh. "That whole family, except Bill and Charlie, well, they was really messed up. I visited Molly a few times, and she was clinging to this ruddy clock like it was her newborn babe. Arthur says it's going to take some time— lots of it. He's at least pretty level-headed unless certain triggers get him all up in arms. Death Eaters mostly, or rather, anyone he might think could be a Death Eater. He attacked a visiting priest in the wing and tried to wring his neck, he did."

"That's a piss poor way to be rewarded for surviving a war," Aberforth said. "I heard the Ministry sold off all the artifacts they found and took all the funds my brother and that Sirius Black had, pooled it all together and are using it to fund their victims' ongoing treatment at Mungo's. Can't say I don't agree with that. I just hope there is enough to go around. My brother was a damned destructive old bastard."

"Well, oddly enough, Sirius Black still had a few rewards out for his capture— remnants from the old days. Those galleons went to helping the victims too." Hagrid sighed, patting his stomach. "I heard Snape and 'Ermione were also victims of yer brother."

Aberforth frowned. "I met the witch once. She seemed somehow older than her friends. More pain in her than a young thing like her should have had. When I fed them up before they went up to Hogwarts, she looked so desperate, like the food was going to vanish before she could eat her fill. Saw that horrible cut on her arm— still bleeding. It was like she hadn't stopped. She just kept pushing. Kept going. Kept fighting. I wonder— if that was my brother's doing or if she just cared so much."

"Knowing 'Ermione, she's a tough little witch, but she has a big 'eart," Hagrid said. "Your brother just stoked the flames of what was already there inside 'er."

Aberforth shook his head. "Damn pathetic world when kids aren't allowed to be kids, Hagrid. I hope your Flitwick puts things back to rights up there."

"Aw, he'll be good. You'll see," Hagrid replied. "McGonagall did a lot while she was there, and Flitwick will do what he can too. Now that the transference to Flitwick happened, the school recognises him as the rightful Headmaster. No more Dumbledore is the boss. Well, I suppose you're Dumbledore too now. They found the real Headmaster's portrait hidden in an old cupboard of all places. Other one was a fake he was using to spy on everyone and order the other portraits around."

"Figures." Aberforth nodded as the little white goat finally started to suckle from the nanny goat, his little white tail flicking wildly and his eyes half closed in bliss. "Ah, there we go. He'll survive now. Come on in, Hagrid. I'll get ya a sandwich and chips on the house."

The pair walked back into the Hog's Head as the little white goat nursed away in abandon as the mind of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore could only scream from within the hidden prison shackling his mind and body. With every suckle on the nanny, the bars on his cage grew stronger and stronger.

"Maaaah!" he bleated, then he bounced off to romp with the other kids in the paddock.

* * *

 _A few years later…_

* * *

"Hermione!" Harry exclaimed, "May I have this dance?"

Hermione raised a brow as Severus gave Harry a very evaluating look. Severus gave his wife a kiss on the cheek and gave Harry her hand, narrowing his eyes as if to say he had better behave himself— or else.

Harry gulped but swept Hermione away and onto the dance floor.

"Aren't you supposed to be dancing with your own wife, Harry?" Hermione chuckled, "instead of me?"

Harry laughed. "Daphne is off getting knackered at the champagne punch bowl with her sister as they make fun of Pansy for getting married to Cormac McLaggen."

Hermione's eyes widened in mock horror. "And Draco?"

"Dancing with his mum," Harry said with a grin. "This is the first really big social event his parents have come to since they first came out of hiding."

"Ah, there he is," Hermione said, seeing the blond waltzing with his mother. "They look so much happier now."

"That was partly your fault," Harry said, swinging her around, "what with saving his parents and all."

Hermione smiled. "Good thing I didn't hold a grudge, considering what we found out."

"Well, after Lucius demonstrated his remarkable ability to Legilimens animals — I _knew_ there was a reason he was so attached to those peacocks of his— in front of the Wizengamot," Harry chuckled. "Punishment and restitution was only a matter of how much more can you punish a puppy and goat kid that can never be changed back."

Hermione cast her gaze to where Molly Weasley was chatting with Fleur, no clock in sight. "First I've seen Molly out in years. I hear she and Fleur are real mother-daughter types now."

"Bit amazing, yeah?" Harry said with a shake of his head.

"Arthur finally came over last month and had a sit down with Severus," Hermione said. "Took him long enough to shake the effects of Dumbledore's brainwashing, but even longer to muster up enough courage to stop in and talk things through."

"You have to admit your husband is pretty intimidating even without showing the other side to his personality."

"The kind and generous lover?" Hermione asked, arching a brow.

Harry flushed red. "The dangerous riddling sphinx side."

"Oh, well, that side is _also_ a kind and generous lover."

"Damnit, Hermione!" Harry turned beetroot red.

"Serves you right for all those times you and Ron could only talk about girls in front of me."

"But you weren't a girl—"

Hermione stared at him.

"You were just one of the guys back then!"

"Who got to listen to you talk about witches like one would appraise the features of a sodding broom, Harry Potter!"

Harry twirled Hermione around and caught her, crushing her to his body. "I'm sorry! You know I'm sorry!"

Hermione chuckled. "Perhaps a little reminder now and then, hrm?"

Harry wilted.

"Buck up, Harry," Hermione said with a smile. "I won't hold a grudge forever."

"For just as long as a sphinx lives— wait, how long _do_ sphinxes live?"

"No one knows— the typical sphinx is pretty long-lived. Greater sphinxes however, supposedly lived through the entire span of Ancient Egypt," Hermione replied. "It behooved them to keep their sphinxes happy to keep their ley lines close, hrm?"

"Luna says the Illuminati keep breeding pairs of sphinxes around the world so the world can keep its ley lines," Harry sighed. "Living in the laps of luxury lest they lose the power of the leys."

"Why all the sighing, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Luna is far more observant than most."

"She's _still_ looking for Crumple-horned Snorkacks!" Harry muttered.

"And you're still looking for the other lost sock," Hermione reasoned. "Both of you don't seem to be succeeding."

Harry closed his eyes. "Yeah. Multiple socks now. Even the kid is losing them."

"How is little James Severus?" Hermione asked.

"A right proper hellion," Harry moaned. "I should have named him Severus James. Maybe then he would think before setting things on fire."

"Poor thing. Think you could do better with sphinxlets?"

"Oh, Merlin, no!" Harry pleaded. "It was bad enough babysitting and having them riddle me to death and try to gnaw on my arm when I didn't understand their baby-riddles!"

"Aww, they love you, Harry."

"To death!"

"That too."

"James has been taping wings to his back and running around on all fours saying he wants to be just like Kingsley and Minerva," Harry sighed. "You really took Kingsley and Minerva by surprise, naming your sphinxlets after them, yeah?"

"Kids need good role models," Hermione said with a smile, "and no one messes with Auntie Minerva and Uncle Kingsley when they are sphinxlet sitting."

"No one messes with Bragnok, either," Harry agreed. "I think he enjoys walking around Gringott's with two mini-sphinxes following him around like a pair of body guards."

"To be fair, Harry," Hermione said. "No one would dare mess with Bragnok, with or without sphinxes."

"True that. You always did defy the natural order of things, Hermione. Before you and Severus, no one thought Animagi could birth— Animagi!"

Hermione shrugged. "Might be a sphinx thing, Harry. Has your son sprouted a set of antlers yet? You did, after all, become a stag, just like your father."

"Naw he just has those little nubs on his head."

"Nubs like baby deer?"

Harry's eyes widened comically. "Oh, **_Merlin_** **!** "

A bright blond boy latched onto Harry's leg. "Dance wiff me!"

"Hello, Scorpius."

"Dance wiff me, Unca, pwease?"

Hermione smiled and bowed, allowing Harry to be commandeered by little Scorpius. She walked back off the dance floor and bowed to Minerva, who was being interrogated, as usual, by Headmaster Flitwick. Aberforth gave her a friendly smile and a nod as she passed by, and— oh dear.

A tiny, miniature goat with polished pearly hooves and horns, scarlet ribbons, and wearing a little tartan blanket stood there at his feet.

Hermione averted her gaze to keep from staring and noticed that a certain raven-black sphinxlet was trying to get at the punch bowl— the alcoholic one.

"Oh no," Hermione said, snatching up her mutant child with one arm. "That is the _wrong_ punch bowl, missy."

"Mum! Mummy! Mum! Mum! Punch!"

"Mmhhmmm," Hermione said, gently tapping her rambunctious little girl on the nose. "You are at the wrong table, Min. The kiddie table is over there by your Auntie Minerva."

"Awwww!" she said, wriggling from nose to tailtip. "But mummy, this one smells lots better!"

Thankful for the glamour on two darlings, she resolved to send Filius a rather luxe care basket as a thank you. Minerva said they would probably get a paw on making the full transition into a human child sometime before they arrived at Hogwarts, but until then, if they were to be seen in public she's rather people think her children just liked to scamper around on all fours and riddle people for fun. From time to time, they did manage to shift in a proper toddler, but like most kids, cubs, or sphinxlet-things, they wanted to do whatever was the most fun. Fully human toddlers were apparently _boring_. Also, Scorpius and James loved to ride sphinx-back and barrel through the gardens at full tilt, which didn't exactly encourage Min and Kin to enjoy being "boringly human."

James Severus, on the other hand, was apparently growing his own set of antlers, which made Hermione wonder what might've happened had Daphne been an Animagus as well. Maybe it was good not to dwell too much on things like that. Harry had his hands full as it was. James Severus was already quite the hellion, and the only thing that kept him from bossing everyone around was being nipped by Min and Kin on a regular basis, which seemed to keep him in line. Well, at least somewhat. Scorpius, of course, had decided that he wanted to be a sphinx when he grew up, and no one wanted to tell him that you didn't just grow up to be a sphinx.

Draco, however, had agreed to make becoming Animagi a Malfoy family project, and they would learn to do it together when the time was right. Harry accused him of not wanting Harry to have one up on him, but Draco adamantly denied it. Hermione wisely stayed out of it. It was far too amusing to watch anyway.

What Draco didn't know, however, was that Lucius had been privately studying with Minerva, and he had proven to be the best sphinxlet sitter _ever—_ as an absolutely gorgeous white lion. No baby sphinx was going to get the drop on him, and since their wings were far too tiny to get them aloft just yet, he was the perfect size to cuff them as they needed it and carry them off by the scruff whenever they got themselves into trouble. Narcissa had been a little baffled, having been certain that he'd end up as a white peacock, but she had to admit, at least privately during tea parties, that Lucius was rather sexy as quite a fine leonine specimen.

Personally, Hermione was glad her angelic little terrors were not flight-worthy. The last thing she needed was to pry her darlings off the chandeliers or find them flying off over the chasm to "visit" with the Gringott's guests without Bragnok to watch over them. Severus had recommended a good supply of Muggle duct tape to remedy any slight chance of them taking off.

Hermione set her wriggling offspring down at the kiddie table, giving an amused nod to Minerva, who pointed down at Filius, who was still asking her innumerable questions about her life as a retiree. Poor Minerva. Even having retired, she was still the go-to witch for "Why isn't this working?" No wonder the former headmistress had sneaked away when she had.

Min pounced on her brother and growled out, "The more you take, the more you leave behind. What am I?"

"Time!" Kin whinged.

Min mauled him, playfully chewing on his ears. "Wrong!"

The two chased each other around the table until they were so tired that they couldn't remember why they had been running in the first place. Both sphinxlets perked, a sudden motion catching their eyes. They hunkered down as if to stalk, their little bottoms low to the ground, tails poofed eagerly.

Hermione followed their gaze, and saw a rather tiny, puffy-looking black dog dressed up in little girl finery, all pink silk bows, painted nails, and a blinged out collar. Her offspring instinctively stalked the fancified morsel, seeming to sense exactly where they were located on the food-chain. They crept closer. Closer.

Suddenly, the little dog turned its head and noticed them. He squealed in terror and yipped as he dive for cover between a forest of little legs. Min and Kin sat down on their rumps, clearly frustrated.

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked up to see a very pregnant redhead slowly approaching her. " ** _Ginny_** **?** "

"It _is_ you, wow, look at you," Ginny said, awkwardly working her way through the crowd. She held her hand over her swollen belly. "Have you met my daughters?" She pointed to a gaggle of giggling little girls undressing and redressing the little dog.

"These are Gennifer, Grace," Ginny said, stretching her arm out to indicate each girl in turn. "Belinda, Becky, and Gayle."

"Five, Ginny?" Hermione gulped. Sphinx or no, she was perfectly happy with two little bundles of trouble. She didn't want or need an entire litter. She didn't want to test the experiment of sphinxes eating their more annoying offspring.

"And more on the way," Ginny said, clutching her belly. She looked both disappointed and proud at the same time."

"Wow, Ginny," Hermione gaped. "I'd heard you started a family, but I never thought you'd be so— thorough."

"Bryan is so proud of the girls," Ginny said wistfully. "He's been working extra-hard to provide. With so many kids, I can't afford to get that many sitters. His family doesn't have house-elves, and they firmly believe in a nuclear family upbringing of the kids. Fancy way of saying he brings in the money, and I make sure the house doesn't burn down around us all."

Hermione lifted her eyebrows. "You even _sound_ American now."

Ginny clasped her hand over her mouth. "Oh no!" She looked around. "Did you meet our little munchkin? We call him Biscuit. The girls just love to dress him up. I was so glad to hear Harry didn't hold a grudge."

Hermione flashed a smile, tugging uncomfortably at the collar of her dress robes. No need to tell her that her children almost ate their pet. "He's so very fluffy."

"I know, right?" Ginny cooed. "He's such a baby too. He's deathly afraid of cats. Downright terrified of them."

"Well, he is pretty tiny," Hermione commented with an understanding smile.

"I suppose." Ginny shrugged and looked around, spotting Harry dancing with a very beautiful woman… was that the former Slytherin ice queen, Daphne Greengrass?

Harry and Daphne glided off the dance floor, elegantly dressed in a manner that practically oozed of the Malfoy influence. He bowed and stopped to speak with quite a few famous and influential guests as they went, scooping up his young son along the way. The boy protested slightly, having falling in with the pile of other raven-haired children, but all of them made their way towards the two witches.

"Ah, Hermione," Harry greeted again, slyly taking her hand and kissing her knuckles. "Have you met my wife, Daphne?"

"Hello, Lady Potter," Hermione said, giving a polite nod. "I have yet to catch you alone for a chat."

"So many parties, Madam Mistress Snape," Daphne said with a gracious smile, nodding to Hermione in turn. "They are so exhausting! Dances, dinner parties, events, socials. My dear Harry takes me to them all. I fear had I not been used to such things in my family, I would've surely expired by now!"

"Auntie Mia!" James held out his hands and practically leapt into Hermione's arms.

"Oof!" You're getting too big to carry, love," Hermione huffed.

"I want a ride!" James exclaimed.

Harry hushed his excitable son, "Hey now, this is not the place to be galloping around and trying to butter up your aunt for rides, young man."

"Awwww!" James pouted.

"You look quite handsome in those dress robes, James," Hermione said, pausing as she noticed that Daphne and Ginny were staring at each other rather intensely. Hermione looked at Harry, who could only shrug in response.

"You must be Mrs Studworthy. It's been a dog's age," Daphne cooed.

"Daphne," Ginny replied awkwardly. "It's Mrs Potter now, I take it?"

"Lady Potter, technically, but yes," Daphne oozed sweetly.

Hermione felt strong arms wrapping around her waist and smiled, lifting her face to offer Severus a kiss— in public, no less. In front of… multiple witnesses.

"You finally disentangle yourself from the crocodiles, Master Snape?" Daphne asked, bowing her head politely.

"Indeed," Severus rumbled in response.

"I must thank you for that fantastic skin cream," Daphne said. "I will be sharing samples with the ladies in my ladies' club. I'm sure all of them will be ordering within the week."

"Excellent, Lady Potter," Severus purred. "It gladdens me to hear it." He turned his head. "Ah, Mrs Studworthy. I fear I did not recognise you at first. How do you like the Americas?"

Blushing, stuttering and stammering was his only reply.

"Ah, it must be beyond what mere words can describe," Severus commented idly. "Speaking of things beyond mere words, I have received notice that Mr Longbottom has managed to create a plant that is rather good at treating burns and various small wounds. Even better, you do not have to defoliate the plant to gain the sap. He was discussing it in great detail— shortly before he saw me and promptly passed out at Pomona's feet. I'm certain I don't know what that was about," he added with a curl of his lip.

"That sounds marvelous," Daphne said brightly. "I do love herbology."

"I remember that," Severus replied. "Perhaps he will give you a tour of the greenhouses. Apparently, Pomona has recruited him to become her successor here at Hogwarts."

"That sounds marvelous," Daphne smiled. "And you, Master Snape? Do you ever plan to return to Hogwarts?"

Severus tilted his head slightly. "I fear my dance card is quite full, my lady."

Ginny fidgeted during the ensuing formal conversation— so full of that which wasn't being said and didn't need to be, to those in the know. Such conversations and rarified circles had one been her fondest dream, but now that she was married, to an American of all things, the social circles she dreamed of would remain far beyond her reach. Even that which should have been easily within reach, her family, was giving her the cold shoulder thanks to the way she had left: cheating on Harry and running off to get married to an American without bothering to send so much as word of it back home. To top it off, she hadn't thought to visit them during their extended time in hospital either. That had been the final wedge between them. Even George, who tended to tolerate even Ronald, was giving her the silent treatment.

Now, Fleur sat beside her mum, laughing and chatting— Fleur, the French mistress of phlegm — taking Ginny's place as the much-cherished daughter. Her father had just quietly stared at her from across the room for a few moments, then had resolutely turned his back on her, tenderly kissing her mother's cheek.

A frightened yip alerted her just before her kids began squalling and crying simultaneously, fighting over how to dress the dog next, and she excused herself awkwardly, finding herself somewhat relieved for an excuse to leave. Two raven-haired children were staring at her sweet Biscuit, their dark, almond-shaped eyes narrowing slightly as she picked the little dog up and gathered her girls to take them back home.

* * *

George let out a blood-curdling scream and fell back into the sand— utterly still as rivers of blood oozed from his shirt.

Two wide-eyed sphinxlets stared down at the crumpled body before them.

"What did you do?" Min cried.

"I didn't do anything!" Kin yelled.

Twin tails twitched as the two reached out with their paws and poked hesitantly at the body.

"You killed him!"

"Did not!"

"Mummy is going to murder us!"

" ** _DADDY_** is going to murder us!"

The sphinxlets exchanged terrified looks.

"Do you think Bragnok might adopt us when mummy wants us dead?"

"Maybe we can bury him in the sand? Do you think mummy and daddy would notice?"

Both sphinxlets placed their paws on George's bloody corpse.

" ** _RRRARRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!_** " George roared, sitting up straight, grabbing them both and snuggling them mercilessly in his bloodspattered arms.

" ** _EEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!_** "

Lucius calmly sipped his tea as he used Severus' side as a prop and his wing as a shade umbrella. "So you are advocating the falsification of murder, now?"

"Always good to know how your children will react under pressure."

"Bury the body?"

"More Slytherin than Gryffindor, apparently."

"Not Slytherin enough," Lucius countered.

Severus shrugged, grooming his paws with his raspy tongue. "They have to start somewhere. They could have thought to throw his body off the edge of the island."

Lucius snorted, watching the two sphinxlets run for their lives as a still-roaring George merrily chased them across the beach. Then, after a while, it was reversed, and the sphinxlets chased him. Finally, George flopped down in the wet sand and the sphinxlets flopped on top of him, using their raspy tongues to dutifully groom his head and exposed skin.

"Where is your mate, Severus?"

"Hermione is with Kingsley, helping interrogate someone at the Ministry."

"That should be exciting."

"For Kingsley, yes. He always did know how to make full use of a good thing." Severus shook his head.

"So, what you are saying is, Kingsley takes a seat behind the one-way wall, puts said person in a rather shabby-looking cage, sets a tasty sandwich on top of the cage, and unleashes Hermione upon the room?"

"They apparently sing like canaries, or Kingsley tells us."

Lucius chuckled. "And do they ever use you as the cage rattler?"

"Oddly, I don't even have to be a sphinx for that to work."

"Psh, Severus," Lucius laughed. "You are not always the incarnation of fear and intimidation, my friend. Look at Hermione. You give _her_ that look and she pounces and practically herself rubs all over you."

Severus flushed. "That is… different. She's my mate."

"Well she didn't get that way from standing across the room making eyes at you alone, Severus," Lucius mused.

"Do not think that young witches are lining up to throw themselves at me, Lucius," Severus scoffed.

"Hardly," Lucius said. "Hermione would tear them to shreds after giving them the most obscure and ridiculously convoluted riddle in her arsenal."

Severus cracked a smile. "She has such lovely riddles."

Lucius snorted. "You say that in the way others would say "she has nice legs."

Thud.

A sphinxlet had her paws on Lucius' lap. "What's harder to catch the faster you run?" She grinned toothily at him, tail lashing.

Lucius pretended to ponder, rubbing his fingers along his jaw.

Min bounced excitedly, looking like she really wanted to gnaw on his knee.

"Oh no you don't, miscreant!" Lucius said, moving his knee out of range. "Your breath, vile demoness. Begone!"

"Awwww!" Min pouted and rubbed against Lucius, licking him with her raspy tongue.

"AahhgH!" Lucius sputtered, both rubbing her ears and shoving her off at the same time.

"She really adores you," Severus said with a small smile tugging at his lips.

Lucius grunted but smiled. "There was a time when I thought you'd never find someone, Severus. I remember you sitting outside Gryffindor's portrait, refusing to leave until Evans would talk to you— and when she finally did, you were even more heartbroken than before. I saw it as proof how ignorant Muggle-born people were. For a while, even, I think you believed me."

Severus tilted his head. "I still wonder at times if she would be able to embrace what I am— _all_ of what I am. Had I finished what I started, I would have eaten four of her housemates in one night. I'm not sure, even knowing what I was, she could have forgiven that."

"Hermione was correct in that Dumbledore did you one favour in that Obliviation," Lucius said. "He kept that from you, and from you, the Dark Lord."

Severus nodded. "One redeeming result to a flurry of mistakes for his much-vaunted greater good. Do you think, Lucius, that Lily could have ever forgiven me like Hermione does? She makes it seem so easy, forgiveness."

Lucius frowned. "Even if she had, do you think you would trade this life you have with Hermione for a mere _maybe_ with Evans? Let me tell you about Narcissa and why she and Hermione get along. Narcissa forgave me for every horrible thing I did. She truly believed in me, even when I did not. She did not enable, but she seemed to realise that I had to shake certain things off myself, or I would never stand by new ideals strongly enough. I had to rediscover my love for my family to gain the courage to save my wife and son. She forgave me my cowardice. She forgave me when I couldn't even forgive myself. And I think that had Evans lived, she would not have done as Hermione did and helped us out of England. She would have watched us fall under the sins of my own doing. That may not be the answer you seek, Severus, but that is my answer to you."

Severus snorted. "Lily would have been there with a can of petrol and a box of matches."

Lucius frowned at the strange word, petrol.

"Petrol is like fuel for a fire, Lucius," Severus said.

"Ah, that does sound rather like Evans."

Both men chuckled.

"I find that I still hope she was happy with her lot in life," Severus confessed after a time. "Even though her time with Potter was brief and mostly spent on the run, I hope it was somehow enough. I wanted so much more for her, though I had no idea how I might help her find it."

"That is the difference, Severus," Lucius said. "Hermione does not care what life she lives as long as it is spent with _you_. If that is what she felt with her Potter, then we cannot fault her that. At least, she would have been content in it, if not with how she met her end."

 _"_ _Misty eyes, I do seek,_

 _Yet in the end, I do not leak."_

Severus gave Lucius a rather predatory look.

Lucius stared. "What? No! I am not here to be riddled!"

Severus stood, shaking the sand off his hide and wings. He let out a low, rumbling growl.

Two sphinxlets and one curious George popped their heads out of a bush to watch what might ensue.

"Severus!" Lucius cried, hastily backing up.

 _"_ _If that you cannot answer me,_

 _Answer me this on the count of three._

 _What is it that no man ever yet did see,_

 _Which never was,_

 _But always is to be?"_

"Nnggggggggh!" Lucius yelped, backpedaling rapidly. He turned into his lion form and fled for his life, Severus in hot pursuit.

The sphinxlets moved their heads back and forth as the chase went on, their tails bristling in excitement.

Suddenly, a blur of tawny gold slammed into the black sphinx, sending him tumbling in the sand. Hermione pinned him on his back, her wings spread wide as she roared in triumph.

 _"_ _A tissue is the word you seek._

 _It sops the tears when eyes do leak._

 _And tomorrow is what men cannot see,_

 _Yet they often grasp as what is to be."_

Severus growled lowly, rubbing his head against hers in greeting, giving of a low, rumbling, "Hrrr Hrrrrr Hrrrrrrrgaaaahhh!"

Hermione wriggled out from under him and fled down the beach.

 _"_ _Catch me, catch me, if you can._

 _Will you be the one who walked or the one who ran?"_

Severus tore after her, kicking up sand as he went.

 _"_ _I will catch you, slippery mate._

 _My desire for you does not abate!"_

Kin and Min exchanged glances and started to tear off after their parents when two large white paws pinned the two sphinxlets down. "Not this time, my little sphinxlets."

"Awww!" the sphinxlets whinged.

"Why don't you go chase George around awhile, hrm?" Lucius suggested, absently waving his wand towards him.

"Wait, what? What are you— **_HONK!_** "

George suddenly found he had become a rather plump and tasty-looking goose.

" ** _HONK!_** " the goose cried, tearing off down the beach, having seemingly forgotten he had wings. The sphinxlets tore off after him, roaring with gleeful excitement.

Minerva nudged Lucius and handed him a fresh cup of tea. "How long do you think it will take him to realise he has wings or could just swim out into the lagoon?"

Lucius smiled, thanking her for the tea. "Long enough to give Severus and Hermione some much-needed alone time."

Minerva conjured a table and umbrella for them to sit at, which they did.

"I'm sure George will be buttering me up for Animagus lessons soon enough, hoping to become something large and hopefully resilient to sphinx teeth."

"Giant red bear?" Lucius asked.

"Red fox seems too easy," Minerva mused. "Also, they might carry him around by his tail."

"Red squirrel?"

"Ladybug?"

Lucius spit out some of his tea, giving Minerva a look. "Red kangaroo."

"Red panda."

"Red marmoset."

"Red-sided opossum."

"Red wolf?"

"Irish Setter?"

"Red lemur."

"Orangutang?"

"Red deer."

"Oh, wonderful, he could get his horns locked with Potter."

"He could be a ginger-furred crumple-horned snorkack!" Luna contributed, sitting down at the table with a large tin of homemade biscuits.

Minerva and Lucius turned to blink at the young witch.

"Where did you come from?" Lucius asked.

"That's a rather long story," Luna said. "But mum apparently met my father after they both fell into a vat of mint jelly. It seems I came along shortly after that, though there is some debate about whether it was mint jelly or something else entirely. Daddy won't tell me for some reason."

Minerva hastily shoved a cup of tea into Luna's hands.

"Oh, thank you, Minerva!"

The air seemed to almost sing with power as another yet another newborn ley line joined the rest that surrounded the island paradise.

"Oh! How lovely," Luna said happily.

"I know _just_ where we can put that one," Bragnok said approvingly.

"Where the bloody hell did you come from?" Lucius exclaimed.

"Well, that is a rather complicated story," Bragnok said. "Goblin courtship takes years with many offerings of shiny objects and the showing off of the sharpest, most wonderful teeth and prowess in—"

"Have some tea," Lucius said quickly, shoving the cup into Bragnok's hands.

Lucius raised his cup. "To friends, old and new."

"To the future," Minerva added. "Which is looking ever better by the moment."

A loud neigh broke the camaraderie, and a large red and white Shire stallion galloped across the beach with two sphinxlets clinging to his back for dear life.

"Apparently Severus isn't the only one who had a stress-induced Animagus transformation," Minerva mused. "At least he wasn't caught half and half in random order."

"I don't think becoming a giant horse is going to help him much against the sphinxlets," Lucius commented. "If anything, he's going to attract their attentions even more."

"I think he prefers it that way," Luna said lightly. "They heal a part of him that has been empty ever since Fred passed on. He likes how it feels— being needed. Like being a teacher. Like being a friend."

"I'm glad he feels comfortable here," Hermione said as she emerged from the brush with Severus right behind her. "I'm glad our home can be a place for healing."

Severus cleared his throat, giving Hermione a look.

Hermione flushed. "I think you all should know— I think I'm pregnant again."

"Why that's wonderful, dear," Minerva gushed. "How do you know— so soon?"

Hermione flushed even more. "The sphinxlets— the energy ones— they didn't fly away this time. They just lingered around my belly and sang."

"That's so beautiful," Luna sighed happily.

"You're not going to be the next Molly or Ginevra, are you?" Lucius asked a bit suspiciously.

"Oh, for the love of— _Merlin_ , no!" Hermione shuddered. "Three is a perfectly good number to stop at for us. "Now our little angels will have a tie-breaker."

"You could have another set of twins," Lucius ribbed.

"No," Severus said firmly.

"How do you know?"

"I _know_ ," Severus growled.

Lucius fanned his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, please don't riddle me, old friend. My brain is quite sun-burnt as it is."

They all laughed together.

"Hey, Bragnok," Minerva called out. "Would you mind teaching us how to play a nice goblin game?"

Bragnok drummed his fingers together. "Hrm, are we wanting a drinking game or a game of skill?"

"Why can't it be both?" Luna asked interestedly.

Bragnok shrugged. "I suppose I could teach you to play dragon poker, but we'll need a miniature cauldron and a few coconuts."

Two sphinxlets suddenly popped out of the nearby bush with coconuts in their mouths. "We haff kokanuts!" they mumbled with their mouths full.

They all laughed as Severus placed down a tiny, miniature silver cauldron.

"Potion master," Severus scoffed. "Really, come on now."

Bragnok pulled out an oversized deck of cards. "Gather round. I shall teach you all dragon poker the way goblins play— when the lights are out and the humans are safely tucked in their beds."

"Yay!" Min and Kin cheered.

George whinnied with exhaustion from nearby and flopped on his side in the sand.

 _Fwoop!_

"Oh! Exciting! May I join?" Kingsley asked as Draco and Harry peered out from behind him. They let go of Kingsley's robes rather guiltily, as if they had side-alonged without permission.

"Us too?" Harry asked sheepishly, as Kingsley eyed them somewhat accusingly.

Minerva waved her wand and expanded the table and added an enormous sun umbrella.

Hermione shook her head as she leaned into Severus' shoulder. "Sit down, everyone. I'm so glad you're here."

Severus wrapped his arm around her shoulder and nuzzled her hair. "And to think, I once thought I was merely a ghost."

Hermione beamed at him and gently pressed her lips to his.

* * *

 _-Fin._

* * *

 **A/N:** Big thanks to my lovely betas, The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, and the Flyby Commander Shepard. These guys are my inspiration to write no matter how horrible I feel when I wake up.


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